Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Wolf Wind

Wolf Wind

She wears night
for a bonnet, winter
her black pelisse, hood flared
in the wolf wind.

She never looks
anything in the eye;
it's all done with
the shrug of a shoulder.

She carries grey shadows
to term in the flare of her hips,
breaking them from her skirt
in eddies as she walks.

In the snow of her petticoats
dawn lies stillborn;
the cricket's fiddle is iced
in the drying rushes.

Every door is barred
against her,
yet she comes and goes
as she wills

in the same dusty clothes
and behind her,
darkness pushes.

~March 2015

posted for     real toads

The Tuesday Platform
Sometimes you see something, and it makes you write.

pelisse: 1.an outer garment lined or trimmed with fur. 2.a woman's long cloak with slits for the arms.1710-20; < French < Late Latin pellicia: mantle, noun feminine of Latin pellicius: of skin...pellis:skin   Dictionary.com Unabridged

Image: found on facebook, author unknown
no copyright infringement intended


  1. Ah, this is lovely--well, a bit terrifying too, as a description of wind--I'd like to bar my skin as I write as it feels cold--but it is very vivid and wonderfully imaginative. I could cite all the different stanzas, each contributes to the feel of this cold Western wind--I like the dust especially in thinking of my image of Oklahoma and those frozen rushes and dawn, and the grey shadows--and the idea of giving birth to the grey shadows--wolf wind seems especially apt as one thinks of the wolf at the door in this kind of stark weather, and she particularly seems to bring a kind of hunger and darkness, so it goes with that too--a metaphoric wolf wind as well as a very real one. Thanks. k.

  2. A lady should never step outside her door without the right ensemble, and this chick has it in spades. I love the opening image of the bonnet, but just in case a bonnet should seem too commonplace, you come up with the pelisse right on its heels--and thanks for the note at the bottom. So we know right away that while she may seem, in some details, almost conventional, she is anything but. Carrying shadows to term in her hips is a master stroke.

    Like all outsiders, and like all who possess magic for good or ill, she is barred from ordinary society, but such is her will and her way that she goes where she pleases anyhow. She is (like) the wolf wind, coming right through that locked door and leaving her cold touch everywhere. Love this.

  3. nice...she is like a personaification of that wind...going where she will and rattling the houses and doors a bit...the wolf too takes what it needs...i felt a touch of death in this as well...

  4. Wow! Pure fantasy? I have seen her as I have felt winter in my joints and I see her more and more as I near my time and try to stay ahead of her on the path. It was madness to leave personified elements behind as these gods and goddesses appear at the surreal edges of our conscuiousness and poets like you flesh them out. I think God contains/is friends with them all.

  5. Brrr, this poem actually makes me feel cold.. and it's very sunny today! It feels like quite a 'dark, mysterious poem to me.

  6. This is such an intriguing portrait - I see it as a personification of winter but it could be read on many different ways.

  7. Ahhhhh, yes, she is all that, and more! Devastatingly beautiful!

  8. Gosh this is lovely.... and oh yeah, sometimes you see something and you just gotta write. Thank goodness for that.

  9. Replies
    1. I just read this again, and am even more staggered ~

    2. Thanks, M, for spending some time with my little brain children. ;_)

  10. cold wind, winter, death
    all there in some degree
    and in some mysterious way


  11. What a wonderful image.. and I kind of see it both as a woman and a wind.. and really does it matter? I love the dress-details that add that touch to her icy steps..

  12. It could be death as well or even depression… that after reading it twice and imagining different things. I first thought winter. I think this is one of your best - and I'm going to add it to my pinterest!

  13. This is so tightly and ferally wrought, Hedge, truly a scary delight. "Sometimes you see something, and it makes you write" -- there is that invocation to dream in words, what Baudelaire called the "invitation to voyage" that bleeds such strange and wondrous ink as this. This personification of the wolf wind is primal and ancient (those petticoats!) too, somewhere between animal and human, an ur-witch-self stalking the land and gestating shadows. You sharpened this down to an impaling bone. Great work.

  14. I thought shadow, but Brian's comment about wind works too… or simply fear, sometimes she follows us, other times she leads the way. Beautifully written.

  15. I read the first line over and over... And as I continued reading, I wanted to quote every other line. This lines broke my heart: "She carries grey shadows / to term in the flare of her hips." Then I was soothed by the last stanza. For she might not have many things not going her way, she moves forward... even if "darkness pushes" at her back.

  16. este poema es maravilloso, sencillamente maravilloso.


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats