how very sad
I can almost smell the confusion of chlorhexidine, urine and corroding
concrete
do remind me never to get old
Terri )O(
----- Original Message -----
From: "grasshopper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, February 15, 2002 11:13 PM
Subject: New Sub: The Weather Man
> On another list they have a regular challenge to write a poem on a
> particular theme. This was for one about the weather...
>
>
> The Weather Man
>
> In the last wood, he waits.
> The leaves of his hair
> are crisp with frost.
> Old air is bleak along
> the withered limbs.
>
> He cranes his senses
> for the echo
> of sundered voices,
> but only the wind speaks
> and it has no language.
>
> This is a ward, they said,
> but he can see the trunks
> decaying, smell
> the rotting roots.
> He has come to this,
> the final winter
>
> and weather is blowing
> all the words away
> into swirls of snow.
> They cannot touch him
> in his coldness
> or breach the white wall.
>
> So, he thinks,
> as it ends,
> shedding a tear
> of ragged ice
> for the world,
> the world lost,
> and all the warmth
> wasted.
>
> grasshopper
>
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