windlass
the wind is rattling the windows of the last tomato
somewhere
a cat is nosing the window of chased leaves
on this dork morning the clocks are waiting to fall back
only my third mug of tea is a comfort for
there are no shadows to conjure up the
wind in the chimes or to compose my day
whistle down the wind the title was
it has blown a long way from home
turn your collar up son
it’s going to rain
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