Jun 042015
 
 
The tendril wind
Begins, far away in thin
Cornstalks that I had walked
Oh eons ago if a day,
Pelting the path with my man's sway,
Counting the trounces of foot and foot,
Wiping my face with playful soot
As though I were the storm 
To come.
 
Bigger than death and ditches,
Ripping through my stitches,
Ferocious as scorches,
Infinite as scythes,
Sweeter than salmon skies,
Solomon-wise my dancing eyes--
And not some laughing worm,
I twist thin
In the tendril wind.

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