Wind, or Wind
By Christopher Munroe
The wind whips your hair back and forth as you wind your way
through the woods, wind whistling through wood as you wander, wondering where
you will wind up.
Your watch has wound down, you would have wound it were you
aware you’d wind up wandering these woods, but without warning it’s no wonder
you wander without...
Your mind wanders, and you wish you were willing to welcome
the wonders without, without wondering what those wonders wrought whereupon they
wandered upon you, gentle wanderer.
And that’s when you realize: You’ve completely lost track of
what you were trying to say…
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