the wet heavy velvet wind [poem]

the wet heavy velvet wind
pulls herself through the hemlock
curtains, boughs floating
on the waving carpet
up low down up low down up

stone forest trees, short
wearing coats, beautiful, warm
storm after storm, weathering
heads down, huddle close
defectors are the first to go

did you see the beech leaves turn
from yellow to gold to brown
before they fell to the ground
turning soft under pressure of
the wet heavy velvet wind

glad we didn’t try like that