Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Familiar Faces

The wind has a face
with freckles and tasseled hair.
It runs from tree,
to fence, and jumps
in a half-opened window.
It’s not a stranger, it belongs
wherever breezes brush against walls;
picture frames are left with prints of dust,
touching glass-faces of old friends known.


Aurora said...

Love this one, Pat.:)

samuru999 said...

I really like this poem very much!

Russell Ragsdale said...

This poem caresses and it is a pleasant sensation indeed, Pat.

Don Iannone said...

Cumberland Island...where the Carnegie robber barons of Pittsburgh lived summers...There was a presence, never more than an elbow away...that always knew of laughing ghosts who rode wild horses and drank wild brew because they knew.

MB said...

Oh, in this heat, I'd love to meet a freckle-faced breeze!

Glad to see you're back on speaking terms with the drunken muse!

ardi k said...

I always did love the wind. And now this.

Jon Cox said...

O WOW! I love this one A LOT! :o)

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

very nice!

Masago said...

Terrific! A unique creation.

floots said...

beautiful pat
and that ending certainly qualifies
as a hot-babe line :)

Pat Paulk said...

Thank you Aurora!!

Samuru, I appreciate your comment very much!!

Thanks Russell, the old girl's sobering back up again.

Don, having grown up on the coast of South Georgia, I'm very familiar with the "robber barons" and some of the "ghosts" they left scattered in the marsh.

MB, thank you!! We are until she goes on another bender!!

Thanks Ardi!! I wonder if wind ever dies, or just goes around in circles?

Thanks Jon Cox!!

Thank you Andrew!!

Thanks Vaughn! I orginally thought of this as a three part poem (may still do it).

Thanks Floots!!

polona said...

i'm so glad your muse is back in shape!
love this one, pat!

Medusa aka expiringpoet said...

So fluidly written it sounded like it was a breeze for you writing this one! Your wind sounds like a babe, love it Pat!