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---
title: Cold wind
id: cold-wind
genre: verse
dedication: Justin
project:
title: Autocento of the breakfast table
class: 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.
[Man of autumn]: january.html
[Fire on the ground]: fire.html
[of black birds]: i-think-its-you.html
[in a froth of hands]: when-im-sorry-i.html
[to the ocean of air]: lappel-du-vide.html
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