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---
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.
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