wind,

 

wrapping her arms around me. and oh so cold. bitter with last storm’s sorrow.

  

I see a dandelion choking among the grass. stomped down by those

who do not                                                             

admire its simple beauty.                                  

 

                                (but aren’t we all simple?)

                                a hunger digs itself

                                into my belly….feral eyes watching a middle aged woman go strolling by, hips

                                in an over exaggerated movement, somehow

recovering the youth                                                                 

that has fled her wrinkled face                                              

 

                                and noisy streets come into focus; bombarded with afternoon cars and the timid sun

           all awaiting to be swept away                             

(like I) in the wind’s embrace                           

oh so bitter and cold.                              

 

by J.C.