Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

ill wind

a chill of wind roams the house
tapping unexpectedly at the spines
of candles that jumped and danced
in surprise, a wise man knows the wind
doesn’t just fly, but settles, lurks,
resists, accepts, even lives and dies
and then lives again, resurrected
with the puffing of cheeks or
twirl of a fan, or the curling of a bird’s wings
or the coughing of a man

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: resist

2 Responses to “ill wind”

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