Standing against the wind
that once had the power
to blow you off course.
But no longer. I have learned to stand,
knowing that even when the steps are small
and I am unable to fly,
I can move
About this poem
Ever wonder how seagulls manage not to be blown askew in still winter winds? I have. I still do.
It’s been a “plow through” kind of day. But plow through I have.
Survival has its benefits. But that is another poem.
The picture was taken in Rye, NH, on New Year’s Day.