Wednesday, November 17, 2010


Extravagantly running smack
into the wind – deciding
to rescind whatever obligations
he’d imagined earlier would
have to crack his day – billowing
windbreaker tugging at his back
like some great yellow sail

in swaying full array – he knew
to savor the delicious way his body
found the bold and fast capacity –
audacity – to meet resistance:
the favor of an only mild blast
of pleasing cold, not freezing air:
with this fleet season of his youth

and mid-November so cooperating
in dimensions of alignment,
his assignment clearly couldn’t
not be to rush headlong into
what was left of Fall. A day
will come when he will not
be able to rush anywhere at all.


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