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J. E. June – A Restful Odor

J. E. June
A Restful Odor

The winds of thought tumble words  a   c   r   o   s   s
my mind like Autumn leaves,
whirling them around to pile up against my cheeks.
Who can inherit winter snow to pack them down,
provide a roof for the mouth,
and shelter them from the tongue,
when wisdom is a mute signing with nebulous digits?
The subtleties of possibility are effortless clouds,
so I rake them free from my cheeks,
and set them smoking at the curb.

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