---
title: Cold wind
genre: verse

dedication: Justin

project:
    title: Autocento of the breakfast table
    css: autocento
...

Man of autumn, cold wind, \
blow down the trees' leaves.  \
Fire on the ground.  The sky \
perfect water, frost-cold, \
rippled only by flocks \
of black birds flying, gone.  \
Their brightness can blind \
an uncareful watcher, work him \
in a froth of hands, not-wings \
that ache with the loss of flight.  \
A tear is flung faithfully \
to the ocean of air, slipping in \
slowly, is as gone as the birds.