The wind blew in this early morn like dear Persephone’s breath emerging from the dark world dank, her metaphorical death The wind blew in this Springtime day like baby’s fingers in my hair then mounting drama blew as hard as shiny trumpets blare The wind this afternoon is warm, it’s bland, like un-drunk tea a marvel of confusion in a vast Midwestern sea I know this wind, a friendly breeze with just an edge of warning like ladies in the choir pew lips pursed on Sunday morning The wind blew in today and still I watch as clouds roll in like boulder waves upon the shore all innocence, restless reckoning.
Early Morning Poems 