grain heads bow cowering from the wind but I lean into it not wanting to turn away from Your breath my heart bends low while face uplifted to Your furious gale through the blowing chaff I inhale Your voice gone out…  | By wrestlingwordblog on August 23, 2024 | grain heads bow cowering from the wind but I lean into it not wanting to turn away from Your breath my heart bends low while face uplifted to Your furious gale through the blowing chaff I inhale Your voice gone out Let there be This poem was written with gratitude to the prompt from dVerse, Quadrille Monday #206 — Around the Bend, in which we were directed to pen a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word bend. Photo, Oklahoma Wheat in the Wind, by George Thomas https://flic.kr/p/4U6YdV | | | |  | You can also reply to this email to leave a comment. | | | | |
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