Bleeding warmth to savage winds I lean against the coastlines bend… Against the sea, the farthest pale, I push against the winters swell. I pull myself into the wind until the lee is lost again and that which may be there Is left for me to find it. No whale or shoal upon this sea Will stop to bind or hinder me Unless the craven crawl returns me safely to the leeward shore. Michael S Brady
Poetry, Politics and Humor