Sculpted by the wind-
bent back and
black,
sprouted high
planted on a curving road.
Sea on the shoulder
beat back with
conifer on the left
twisted and gnarled,
I’ve seen it sculpted in
faces.

There are people
sculpted by the wind.
Who drive slow-
who harbor a sorrow
in a blonde slick back
stream of high ravine-
like a maze
I’d give my life to be
lost in,
practicing refrain-
walking a practiced
gait-
because oh the intensity!
of being
sculpted by the wind.