Meg Eden

I am in

when the wind hits
exactly east, and

the light in the trees is
familiar, a kaleidoscope

of glass, only,
no influence of internal substances

making me spin, spin
pulled deeper, into

the leaves, the earth, the
snow that is to come.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Jeanette Cheezum

Reading this...I'm caught up in the rapture of life. Good poem.