The lake takes the township by storm
exerting its will over the highlands
fierce and affecting
from 200 miles to the north
I meet it alone among trees
me in my big coat trying
to be still with such wind
speaking in the hollows of my face
Snow-sided trees circle and sway
with a popping and cracking I feel at my core
the wind in the crowns saying her
the wind on the hill saying she
What the wind says
I remember it all
carrying the best of it
into what remains of a passing life.
