When the air, thick
as a towel, wraps around
just-washed hair

When the wind makes
myths you don’t
want to follow

When the days
drop their quota
of dailiness

and you want
every thought
to be a cleaver


In response to thus: The wind wraps a thick-corded hand.

1 Comment

  1. yet some cherish the dailyness of days, brush their hair in open air and allow the thoughts to concert
    bold quiet,as the wind that hurls takes them away …….


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