Posted by: Jim | October 13, 2008



They shiver in the wind:

The two somber little blond boys

Who work together to scoop a dead,

Soggy insect out of the river.


I sit and watch still and silent as a stone  in the warm water.


The chilled wind carves my weathered cheekbones

With kind and cold familiar fingers.

It has felt my face before.


And I know it will leave me

To continue south,

To feel faces in Belize and Bolivia.

To Cape and cold,

To billow the flags of Auckland and Myanmar,

To crackle a fire in Siberia.

To remove a man’s hat in Japan.


One day it will be back here,

And notice a missing perturbation,

Then, remembering my face.

It will whisper my name,

Winding through the trees.



  1. Love it!

  2. OK, you’re getting better.

    P.S. You’re welcome.


    * * *

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: