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Sunday, February 05, 2012
Night Wind
The night mountain has deep cold, heavy wind, the small trees huddle like small people, grow to fit their place, their centers lean, grow crooked, twisty to stay alive.
Some of my poems are bundled in .pdf files named 'Word Anger', 'Loose Thoughts', 'Nose in the Wind', and 'To the Fly on My Sleeve'. For copies send an email to mikemcculley at reachone dot com, or via the profile, subject: E Book, specify which file(s), and I will attach them to a reply.
3 comments:
Oh, I grow twisty too! There is nothing like walking alone in the forest, listening, watching, being.
Very moving piece, and a bit haunting.
I like it. Makes you wonder about getting old and twisty and growing in your place.
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