Friday Poem: "Strong Wind, January, Suburbia"

This poem happened a few months after our daughter Hazel was born. A November baby, her first trips out into the world were bundled in winter clothes. I'm posting it now to hopefully take our collective minds off the heat that seems to be cooking us the world over this summer.

Strong Wind, January, Suburbia

For Rebecca

It sweeps us, it roars us,
It backs the clean leaves and litter
Up against the rippling chainlink.

Oh it leaves us and it leaves us
But there’s no way to tell if it’s
Ever finished rushing us head-

long. It makes us think in riddles.
A sleek gull hangs in it, motion-
less, save the tightrope balancing

of his wings, eye-level, focused
on the asphalt’s ruffled puddle,
watching for a clam or mole crab

to appear. Even out of place
we do what we remember we must.
When I bring our infant daughter

out from the still house air, she laughs
To feel her seashell ears so full,
Spreads her fingers to sift the wind,

Opens her palms to each bright gust
And turns them, surprised every time
To find them so empty.

This poem originally appeared in Softblow.