Don R. Law




I feel nothing but the wind
The wind, my partner

Chastening me, fascinating me,
Contemplation of scent, whistle of derision,
Captivating me,
I understand these sensations, this prickle of soft intention,

Curling under my sleeve,
Scurrying up my elbows and along my inner pant,
No contrived invention…

Yet…It leaves me without feeling,
Gives no time for thought
Seeking  place in my body
Contemplating me, though not sought,

As if seeking that which is most hidden,
My skeleton rippling with shiver, my thought not,

Tracing each length of soft flesh, away
And away, and as the day warms, Meadow scent
Each Flower, begins its decay,

But to caress and dream… to intervene,
Sweet favor, teased fervor,

Sweet lies…taken time,
Divine stills
Unspoken charm.
Breath spilled

So awake …fettered heart, eye drawn but wet,
Tear drop fear naught,
arise and shimmer

As Canyon airs Delight, glimmer
Gold thrashing, molten winds running,
Rivers surge, Mountains running
Flush past,
“Hurry, hurry”

Poplar leaves flutter,
Held tight in circles then stutter their
Impeccable manners, the Pine bough sways and

Sudden the Sun obscure,
Grey weld, held cloud

And so stops the breeze sure,

breeze still,
breeze pure


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