Tuesday, March 1, 2016

march wind. . . .


walls flat-line to ivory sails
winter's ghost trailing
love stories defined in black sharpie
against the azure day
shifting
shifting ....
dimensions blending into ripe copper moments
shifting
a single desire to feel your skin against my back
breaking the fall
into
the turning ...
the
opening
of
spring
the north wind shifts suddenly to the left of you
at 30 mph
and
I
smell
the river
and all those copperline moments
sparked
&
full
distinctly riding upon the backs of sandhill cranes
skin to feathers
wind to home . . . .

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