Gusty underpass
My head is a crossroads
Leaves dance,
What if wind were the walking dead
Clearer than water to the eye?
The lost kicking leaves
and playing with the hair they long to touch once more
Tearing up against rises of rock,
All cliffs scaled and mountains blown rough -
Forests bracing against the flood of the forgotten
Battering and breaking the ones they loved and who loved them;
We're still here.
I know where you'll find me,
After all this is over.
You'll catch me in Oklahoma,
stirring up hurricanes
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