Mind the way the wind
knifes through a grove of slender growth,
whistling through the lattices they form—
How the lips press
lightly against the tongue of the bamboo blade,
how a finger pulls back on the lever—
Mouth open, teeth held
back and kept from biting—
[LAG-signature date=”06 04 2013″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2013/06/159123349/”]