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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Foehn


Foehn

The wind which kills:
le vent qui tue.

Too much light,
green shoots out of snow
and trees  stare into the sun.

white clouds glaring,
hail out of  blue sky.
The soil bursts open.

I dance around my wound.
windmill wings flail me
into dizziness. but I fly
and  join the tumbling leaves,

listen, they are hissing.
who knows the words
of spring,
when a lone bird sings?

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