Tuesday, October 9, 2012


On this doorstep,
the place of beginnings
of wounds and returns
my feet stomping
my throat howling
'the cruel world...all wrong.'

Echoes flow over the ridge,
across the red canyon,
fading, fading...
Today, brushing the trees,
a wind that never meant
to change the world.

1 comment:

  1. This has a haunting quality to it......the stuff of life, loss, going away, returning........I LOVE the "wind that never meant to change the world."


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