The Windsock.

You swing lightly in the darkness,
trying out possibilities.
sliding your hips,
floating an arm,
sidestepping the currents,
vaulting the air.

A casual elegance,
born from grubby canvas
and grey, urban air.
You shake yourself down,
side-flip, shimmy,
Pleasing yourself, hanging loose.

My lightness and strength
have slipped out across the night sky,
into your hands.
I watch as you dance them into the wind,
keeping them burning
under your beacon light.

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This entry was posted in Poetry..

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