Monday Poetry: Contrails & Headwind
Photo credit: William Seidle, Unsplash
Contrails
Contrails
Stripe the sky like pink clotheslines
Pulled taut to the setting sun.
Like tattered lavender shirts,
Clouds are tethered to dry
In the cool, night
Air
Photo credit: Annie Spratt, Unsplash
Headwind
I opened the door to
this new year
and stepped into the brightness
of January.
It took my breath away–
So still, hopeful,
Crisp and untrodden.
I stood,
sheltered and expectant,
weighing the options
of my journey.
Four months now,
walking into a headwind,
eyes down, jaw set,
I only allow momentary
glances
toward a distant horizon.
Biting questions
whip at my mind
and make my eyes
water.
Press into it.
To stop would be
to go backwards.
“The years teach much which the days never new.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson
gravel road girl 