A cold wind blasts through the concrete canyon,
Whips around the building to whistle my windows.
City birds dart while snow coats roof awnings below.
I debate about going out to do a little shopping;
But I don’t want to linger at the WRTA bus station,
Not while Boardman Street winds split at Market.
Flags atop the courthouse fly in opposite directions,
One on a lower pole drapes still waiting for a breeze.
While the fourth flag on Chase seeks its own direction.
It freaked me out the first time I noticed wind patterns,
Evident by four flags whipped into a four-way frenzy,
The comparison prompted by angry storm clouds.
A cold wind blasts through the concrete canyon,
Whips around time to whistle whispers in my mind.
Last words dart while snow coats broken friendship.
I find no shelter from the cold that quietly lingers;
But I don’t want to mask the chill with false warmth,
Not while the wild winds of life changes stir in me.
N.2016
Barnbees 