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Gusto

by Megan Guimbellot

The winds are picking up tonight, in a most tropical storm sort of way,
bringing on them curious scents with mixed up memories of other storms that have come before and hinting of those still yet to wash upon this shore.
I can taste the recklessness in the air//feel it swirl around the collar of my coat and
with a lovers caress, push the hair from my eyes//standing as it moves I have to wonder how many lovers whispers ride these anxious breezes to waiting ears, covering miles twisting between the branches of trees and through alleyways.

I wonder of the tears this coastal wind has dried on salted cheeks,
of the laughter that's been caught in the gusts and broken up into tiny shreds of sound over long stretches of lightless interstate.
If only I could run the course of this tropical storm//sweeping through the cracks in the rocks, slipping through the leaves, kicking up sand and making waves// to be the quiet observer, the unnoticed backdrop to countless loves, to carry sighs from contented lips...

Instead I must settle for the breezes to bring these things to me
I'll imagine where its been, and where its blowing off to,
with my thoughts dancing along with it.

11/20/2009

Author's Note: I love the freedom nature has to slip quietly into the places of its choosing and then go on unnoticed as it desires.

Posted on 11/20/2009
Copyright © 2024 Megan Guimbellot

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