And She Moves... Poem by Rince Wind
And She Moves...
On a waning summer noon
weathered by a drifting consciousness
a dry dusty swirl rises lowly in a corner
and in its stride lifts everything
in a shimmering grace...
but then for none to fathom
it dies without a trace...
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Topic(s) of this poem: summer
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8/27/2026 7:49:38 AM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
