By R.B. Simpson
It blew in out of nowhere
restless, reckless, raring to go,
a leer in its eye,
raising hair, ready to raise hell,
hustling down the street,
sending yesterday’s news flapping,
whipping the words
right out of my mouth.
Lone wolf wind on the prowl
– wide awake –
howling wild with delight,
ripping it up around midnight.
Suddenly it was all around me,
sneaking up behind,
lunging over my shoulder and
laughing right in my face:
Brace up boy or I’ll blow you down!
Some old-type city slicker
you know that cool
cut-the-corner style.
Then it clicked its heels
(clean as a whistle)
and whoo – it was gone.
Richard Simpson is a freelance writer and journalist, and his poems have appeared in SQ and imPrint magazines. He lives in Johannesburg, South Africa.
