The Wrestler
The tired wind creeps down the canyon At nightfall.
By day it turns and flings itself Against the granite face of the mountains.
Alice Corbin Henderson
The tired wind creeps down the canyon At nightfall.
By day it turns and flings itself Against the granite face of the mountains.
Alice Corbin Henderson’s tiny poem imagines the wind as a worn-out wrestler. All day, it hurls itself against the unyielding granite mountains — an exhausting, violent effort that leaves it drained. When night falls, there is no more fight.
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