You, in the wind


Weathered wood slat paths lead me along the edge of the marsh to the spot where I feel you the most. The boards make hollow sounds under my feet. I walk here, suspended above the ground, seeking something as hard to grab as the salt in the air that swirls around my face.

The phragmites have grown since we walked here together. “Invasive species” says the placard, and as the wind pushes them across my path it seems like they could march across the boardwalk and lay claim to vacant mud on the other side.

I walk through them, letting their raspiness whip my face as I pass, recalling the invasion that was you entering my life and wishing that, as with these grasses, there was nothing but a stretch of hollow-sounding boards holding you back.

I turn to face the marsh and lean into the wind the way I lean into you. I stretch out my arms and test its strength. It whispers in my ear as it pushes back. I feel like it could hold me up. Eyes closed I can smell the clean warm scent of your shirt, the one I love to rub my face against when we embrace.

The feathery tops of the phragmites brush my cheek, rougher than your red flannel, warming my skin.

Cold as it is, my cheeks are hot now. I blush, aroused by the marsh, seduced by the gusty wind and whipping grasses.

Photo by Molly Montrevoir.

~ by Molly Montrevoir on November 23, 2007.

2 Responses to “You, in the wind”

  1. You know, I’ve just learned something – I’ve always just called those rushes ‘toi-toi’.

    Lovely post, as well!

    xx Dee

  2. Why thank you Dee. I wonder what other names these grasses go by!

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