Monday, April 23, 2018

wind

you’re always
taking sides

your words
directionless

or rather
they lack

purpose
moved by wind

first one way
then another

you play
the middle

where
edges blur

advocating
mystery

or rather
a fog of opinions

wall full
of holes

nothing
bleeds through

you find
crooked paths

down
wards

distracted
by weeds

the garden
edged with flowers

that may
be useful

to offset
pests

small things
entering

every small
space

one way
or another