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In the Wind

Hot air rushes by like cleansing fire,
pinning blades of grass to the ground,
flatter than winka’s unkept promises.
Curtains of dust shroud bushlands.
Glints of light and ashy figures
resist Canicular’s blast,
resembling mythic beings
in a domain ruled by night.

There’s no meaning higher than tablelands.
The dome of dark sky
is impenetrable to human prayer.
Circling birds hail solitude
far above the earthy pyre.
Cloven hooves of winka’s sheep
have eroded this devastated land.

Gaunt pioneers who came in droves
gunned gentle guanacos
with padded toes.
Seven thousand years ago
Mapuche tribes herded
Patagonian Camelidae,
gendered at the dawn of time
by wise gods of the steppes.

Somewhere,
untouched by dust bowls of human perfidy,
blithe spirits celebrate infinity.
The infinity of Earth People.
Their spirits weep secretly
and their tears dry in the wind.
All is dry.
All is in the wind.

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Comments

the use of [winka] it must be the indeginous name for white man. I know that the cloven feet of the sheep have cut and churned up the grasslands, whereas the guanacos have padded feet and rode over the grass and didn't cut into the dirt and consequently leave it open to the dry winds of the steppes. I like the use of "All is dry" All is in the wind" at the end. It gives it the finality of the tears and sorrow. ~ Geez.
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Dear Geez, yes indeed, the sheep erode the land and leave it useless. Winka also means foreigner and liar! Nomad indigenous tribes roamed the southernmost part of Patagonia more than 10.000 years ago. They traded hides and guanaco meat with the Araucanos on the Chilean side.
Yes, it's sad about how the imported animals devastated the grasslands. The goats did the same harm. I'm glad you find the ending good.
All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Dear Teddy, thank you for your kind words. I'm sure you exaggerate. Though it's true about tears drying in the wind. Does it sound hopeful? I rather imagined it's more like a castastrophic climate emergency.
All the best and take care, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

gendered at the dawn of time

perhaps more than 7000 years or so

Hi L, "the dawn of time" is a poetical license, but the origin of the tribes does go back at least 10.000 years.
You make me laugh with "rem.i.nisce", you've always got a sense of humour.
Thanks for that and keep safe, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

i love drinks
red wine from
Niagara
then smiles
off sullen faces
for that i gave all a tumbler
full of humour
they laugh
and i appreciate
thanks Gracy ma'am

SMILE LAUGH AND APPRECIATE
ARE THREE INGREDIENTS OF
THE MOST DESIRED EARTHLY
MENU
HAPPINESS
Ma'am

Hi L, you always make me laugh with your answers. Personally, I prefer our Argentine wines, especially our Malbec and plenty of others. They're much appreciated in Europe, but more especially in England.
We have our falls, gigantic ones, called "Cataratas del Iguazú". Many tourists come to see the marvels of it and its surroundings. The province is a National Park and it's protected due to its lush jungles and forests.
Thanks for the advice about smiling and happiness. I try, but it's not always possible.
Best wishes, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

any and everything is possible ma'am
next time if ever i can
shall enjoy Argentine wines

but it may be long away
may not may
next birth unknown today
far far way

Rgds
'tis a pleasure knowing such an astounding poetess
I salute you and your pen
ma'am

Thank you, Alan, I really do love the area where I live. The wind is almost non-stop, so the farm where I grew up had rows of poplars to protect our precious apples, because if the wind blew them down, they were only good for cider, which was a great loss. Our job as children was to pick them up and put them in boxes, for them to be sent to the cider factory. My Dad paid me the "great sum" of 1 Argentine peso per box!
Alan, there are good and bad things in the wind. The good part is that it cools us during the hot summers, you already know the bad part.
I hope other readers will understand my poem, as you believe.
Best wishes, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

To the hospital, Jerry? What's happenning? I hope it's nothing serious. I'll be praying for you all these days. Please let us know how you're progressing. Is Lynda with you?
God bless and bring you through this bad spell safely,
love to you especially and also to Lynda, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Hi Jerry, I'm so glad you are back home. You made me laugh about your being a "bionic" man.
Sorry about your not being able to pinch the nurses!
Keep safe and I hope Lynda didn't read this...lol.
Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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