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Thursday, May 2, 2013

Wind Meditations in the Columbia Gorge

Wind racing over the waters
Careening around canyon corners
Ice cold waves leap with delight
...Idiot kayaker, not so much

High desert mountains
Try on a flimsy spring dress of sheer green
Teasing again

Blooming flowers witness
 The grass being whipped
Trembles in the shredding wind

Curious clouds
Sniff alien contrails
As they scurry by

 I don't think flowers
Often experience existential dread
But you never know

 Before the gale
Flickering like bright yellow
Daylight fireflies

 In a symphony of windblown grass
There's no telling which baton
Belongs to the conductor

There's those flowers again
Acting all happy
And shit

Shy plants looking back and away
All the time nodding consent to nothing in particular

 Surveying the dead and wounded
At the end of the grass battle

In memory of those
Who dared to show their faces to the sun

Hey flowers!
Suck it!

"the sun is a miasma of incandescent plasma"
- T.M.B.G

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