Wind
November clears his throat
Fiddles with an ear flap cap on
the porch, here to deliver news
October just couldn’t say, the coward
“Out with it, man”, but I
already know
It’s the hem and the haw
I can’t stand
Bad news duly delivered
December, certainly January
Will sweep in
Cold, officious fuckers
steering me in circles, but
November, only a messenger
Left behind this howling wind
A torrent to lean into
Hurtling, headlong
Once again
on tireless legs
the world a blur
so real it takes
my breath away.
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