Of Two Minds
Feb 2019

 

My mind has a mind of its own
that weeps when pink azalea blossoms

wilt, and weeps again when newly

buds unfold. It laughs when first

a narrow shoot of sidewalk green

lifts its curious head in April to meet

my gaze like a baby offers

her first toothless smile.

 

The wind also holds two minds,

like the ocean, mentor to our dry and

somber lives. Like the sea

I change my wrinkled clothes,

like the wind my mind blows

hot and cold. Come love me,

it cries, then leave me alone.