Prairie Winds
March is a good time
to be a thin branch
in a treeless landscape.
You can catch hold of a wind-serpent
in your upheld hands,
a sea-creature born to be
the innards of the sky.
When high rains surf
a flat-faced landscape
mountains of air,
can pitch you pell-mell
onto darkly crashing shores,
margins you once mistook
for yourself.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
