Winds of Home
A Poppy's Prompt Poem
I remember the winds of home most of all, the constant breeze blowing in from the Gulf.
They'd arise with the dawn, swirling and eddying throughout the day, forming dust devil vortices of the powder fine sand atop the loamy soil.
Wind and sand combined to create an airborne abrasive, a concoction that eroded wood, flaked off paint, faded color into nothingness.
Reds to pinks, blacks to grays, whites to the formlessness of mottled wood grain.
Metal to rust. Dreams to faded memories, lost to the wind.
I finally got an envelope with my ticket out, and away I went, before the next storm could descend,
only to learn you never outrun the winds of home.
About the Creator
David Muñoz
I'm a recovering artist in Austin, Texas. Stoic student, mystic, writer, poet, guitarist, father, brother, son, friend. I am an eternal soul living a human experience. Part of that experience is working through my stuff by making art.
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I First Saw Him
When I first saw him sitting on the wall, relaxed and looking out over the water, I was sure he wasn't a local. Not including children, there are only about 250 or 300 of us in this area full-time, though that number is ten-fold in the summer, and I know everyone at least by sight or by family resemblance. And yet, the way he sat looked familiar and started my mind sorting and discarding among the families I knew, not quite like this one, not quite like that one.
By Natalie Wilkinson7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
This is splendidly done! The last two stanzas were a brilliant close!
Hi David… I’m just back to say that I enjoyed your poem so much that I included it in my latest Angie’s Artefacts: https://vocal.media/writers/angie-s-artifacts-iv😃
I loved the atmosphere of this. A harshness and a willingness to escape but also the draw to return.
This has such a swirly, breezy feel to it… I can almost feel it. ‘They'd arise with the dawn, swirling and eddying throughout the day, forming dust devil vortices of the powder fine sand atop the loamy soil.’
I love this! The Gulf Coast wind is both warm and inviting and equally as erosive.
This is so well written. I love this part: “Metal to rust. Dreams to faded memories, lost to the wind.” And of course, that powerful ending was marvellous.
Well done.