Whispers Wild
A boy
Cast in bronze
Dressed in black
Hooded cloak frames
Bone white face
Running full stride
Headlong into strong wind
Black pants and cape
Rippling behind
Gloved palms push out
One leg thrust fiercely back
His mouth
Barely curved at corners
Smiling through the gale
As if running starless
Into night
Across sand
Along the North Sea
Cold gusts
Sucking his breath
Listening to whispers
As he smiles
Wordless whispers
Wild as sea wind
His eyes set
Calm…intent
Fixed on nothing
© 2017 Steve Bucher
Steve Bucher lives and writes poetry in the Virginia Piedmont. His poetry appears in the Blue Heron Review, the deLuge Journal, the Artemis Journal, the California Quarterly, NoVa Bards, Calliope Magazine, the Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine, and will appear in the summer 2017 issue of Glass: Facets of Poetry.
