IT’S A WINDY DAY

Mother Hölle’s coiling

up thin threads of whirling rain. Tick, I hear her reel

click. Deer on tiptoe carve a twisty

path to the curving creek where swallows gyre

at hatching flies encircling

boys who cast and spool at trout turning

through water’s whorl.

In the spinning sky, silk dragons entwine, their tails entangle in the wind.