photo by author.

small victories.

sonnet.

the bracing rush of walking into wind,
the whiplash snap of flags, rope-clink on poles,
dry frisking scrapes as plastic wrappers roll;
the forceful currents buffet, gust, and spin.

you grimace, an involuntary grin
which ends up genuine; an uncontrolled
emotion infiltrates this boring stroll -
as if you’re being lifted from within.

there’s nothing here but aimlessness and air;
you won’t recall this walk an hour from now;
absurd to feel invigorated, tough -

you know you’re wasting time, that you should care
about more pressing matters; but, somehow,
one win against the wind is good enough.

alex guenther. interview here and book here.