Saturday, October 8, 2011

Pride in the Wind

Wind blows readily through the broken windowpane.
The curtain stands back from its gaze upon the shadows
its own lacy pattern makes upon the moon
because the moon
is high and big and yellow, pale yellow,
and perfectly round.

Broken bits of glass have been picked out of the wooden molding
so no one can tell at a glance the window needs mending.
At night, on a night like tonight, the curtain
puffs in and out the broken window.
 If one were not proud one could board it up
at least on a night like tonight,
 the wind is cold,
or tack up an old blanket
but it isn't done.

They pull on knitted caps. Push the bed away from the window.
Climb onto its high wooden frame under blankets,
many wool blankets, and watch the wind
back and forth
 cradle the moon
back and forth
in its lace covered arms.

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