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.