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Some women are April breezes, wafting across a green lawn. Swaying crisp white sheets hanging in the sunshine, on a country line. Some women are cold November. Drafts whispering with damp voices, through cracks in hollow walls. Some are the maelstrom leaving, devastation in their mad wake. Others, a hot desert wind that carries the scent of exotic spice to your tongue. Some women howl like the North Wind. Blowing down walls in their path. Paving the way for a calm day, where damaging winds don’t blow and clouds paint a still life in the sky.
Poet/writer/ filmmaker Moe Phillips is a native New Yorker with over 40 poems and essays published in anthologies for children and adults. Moe’s latest creation - “TheFeistybeast.com” is an audio content series she pens and produces.
You can view more of Moe’s work at moephillips.net
Nice last line, a still life in the sky!
Lovely imagery!