Night Wind

A window slams shut
Trees fuss, extending
Tentative fingers to
Scratch the itchy house.
Waves tickle dock legs,
Lick the shore eagerly.
Such waggling wiggling
Pops into my dream of
Buying a red leather sports car
And sets me back here
To hear the night wind.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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