IT’S A WINDY DAY
Mother Hölle’s coiling up thin threads of whirling rain. Tick, I hear her reel click. Deer on tiptoe carve a twisty path to the curving creek where swallows gyre at hatching flies encircling boys who cast and spool at trout turning through water’s whorl. In the spinning sky, silk dragons entwine, their tails entangle in the wind.
June 5, 2009