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Is the wind alive? That’s what the Choctaw believed.
The Apache called it, apocryphally, “the breath of the world.”

To them, the wind is the trickster you never see,
a joker on the plain of life.

What’s always arriving and always leaving?

What’s as old as the world, yet forever current?

Ever present and tireless, it seldom sleeps,
holding up jets, herding clouds like sheep,
filling sails, stirring leaves, causing rough seas.

What’s always passing, but already everywhere?

The Cherokee named ‘air’ the ‘keeper of spirits,”
because it sighs, cries, whispers and moans.
They credited it with great power and influence.

Today, we watch the skies with doppler witchery,
we forecast its path, with the gambler's odds - see,
the wind has turned on us, many times - like a tornado.
.
.
Songs for this;
Colors Of the Wind - End Title by Vanessa Williams
They Call the Wind Maria by Harve Presnell
Windy by The Association
From Merriam Webster’s “Word of the day’ list: Apocryphal: legendary but of doubtful authenticity.

06.22.10:50
"he hopes the book will
run into many editions...
to defray legal costs..."

Mein Kampf  2,  

by Donald J. Trump
The line in the sand

is at such incredible depth

but suddenly obtainable

through unspoken tragic demarcation

whatever the outcome

the 91st floor comes from underneath

they say today is happening

outside of me

and from a window

along the stress fracture

it's falling decidedly at your feet
There is a
screaming
screeching pain
that is so raw.
It's like a
mouse caught in
a glue trap.
It must be locked
away for no one
to see or handle.

And sometimes
on moonless nights
when no one is
around, and the
owls have killed
their prey, and the
teardrops have been
bottled and sold on
the black market,
you may be tempted
to take that pain out,
like a slice of pie,
and taste it.
Be careful.
It may have
fermented and
developed a mind of
its own.
Check out my recently published, Limited Edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
I feel like I'm
stuck in a bad
video game,
like pong, from
the first Atari.
And I'm that little  
dot that gets ponged
back and forth.
Life is like a
Scene from Dante's
inferno...
Abandon all hope...
I need mountains,
The ocean,
And the breath of
6 week old puppies.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
Here is a link to my recently published Limited Edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
Temperance is simply a disposition of the mind
which binds the passion.

-Thomas Aquinas

June sun wakes and slowly rakes
its brow, a lemon-clouded reach

that staggers broad-brushed fringe
& stumbles over tenement bustle

awash with sweat and coffee steam.
But under modest morning's facing

flower riots of desire:
bitten lips pout in open windows,

coarse, carnal hands glissando
over fruit in grocery bins,

a stranger's barking blossom laughter
a little too long and loud to be entirely proper...

Even here, where my lover tightens the knots
with one hand, shining scissors in the other.
Some minor edits
a dead mouse floats
where water has puddled

in the driveway

and a  whiff of skunk
means

it must have taken port
from last night's storm

in the garage

a slow rusty drip
falls from the gutter

so many early morning
impressions

so many clues
and so many McGuffins

to distract
An impressionistic word painting
Tis a moment and mood I share, this hour.
For I am plying the revered "Speed Track" @ Pukeiti Rhododendron park, not 6 km from Foxglove.
The day is brisk and sunny, only the forest denizens and the occasional park gardener join me in my slow passage through the high alpine pathways.
Two shaky legs and a sturdy cane propel me forth, up hill down Dale through the remarkable beauty of the place. All the while healing the great wrent in my abdomen, fostering the re plumbing of my gizzard, rebuilding the muscular atrophy of my early weeks of prone recovery.
So good for the spirit, these days of lonely communion with the wilderness, the breeze and the birdcall.
Each day, a little further, each hill, a little higher.....all the way, every day, a celebration of life.

M@Foxglove,Taranaki.NZ
In response  to Nat's Little Lemons, Limes & Grapefuit....and of course, the Little Ant.
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