Sunday, March 10, 2013

Wind Vision

I’ve seen a few things along the road that have stayed with me.

The rotting hulk of a once proud man, staggering through a whiskey fog, trying to make it home before sunset, before the cold dark desert mistook him for food.

A quilt of rainbows; green corn wrapped in blue gentian, orange monarchs atop silver seedheads, red leaves covering yellowed grass, dandelions tickling turtle head snuggling purple coneflower massaging black hollyhock thrashing Boston ivy which snakes across my home’s stuccoed façade, smothering its imperfections in layered emerald chaos.

The flaked husk of a coon who’d found crossing the road not to his liking.

Even the stones along the road are alive, if you pay attention to them.

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