Walk into the valley of dog walk
Yip talk, stick toss into the wind
Its susurrous shush, its raucous roar
Muscles my auditory am
Roils the curls of winter trees
Their arms, their fingers sweeping, bending
Earache of listen, flagellated face
I toil against its bulk
Meltwater royal blue path, slush pillows, puddles
While the black dog bounds through undulating grass
Yellow field
Eats snow, looks back
Wind warning, gusting to 100 k.
Lately, I have not written many poems. Unfortunately by the end of the day, my work tends to suck all language out of my temporal cortex, leaving no playful words. However, today on my walk with the dog, a sunny day with big wind, a poem crept into my thoughts.
So here it is, first draft.
I have included a photo of the area where we walked. This photo was not one I took today, but a few weeks ago. If I had taken one today, the snow would have looked soggier. The wind? Not so easy to represent in a photo.
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