Wednesday, May 27, 2009

To Helena, once again

the bellows are blowing with force
I am still surprised to consider ferocious
for how long I have weathered them here.
They say it has rushed along
the coast, down from the Alaskan cold—
this chilled edge we have to summer.
Nearly, I went over the edge, I
am ashamed to admit, taking offense
at the nip of wind, as it mussed my hair.
Surprising, this chip on my shoulder,
you know. That is, you'd understand.

2 comments:

sojourner said...

Dave, I do understand - I popped in while browsing through the RAP offerings that Marcus posted in his article over at HighCallingBlogs - Good Day to ya!

L.L. Barkat said...

I love the rhythms in this poem. They jar. (And I mean that in a good way.)