i think of him outdoors
chopping air with his fingertips
a chance meeting
between wind and man
each a survivor of time
but not of love
i savor the moment
yet to come
when i too
shall greet the wind
with my fingertips
achieving creative freedom
but until then
i shall entice my interest
with words and wet clay
mold what i know
bathe my hands in spring water
by mary ann blinkhorn
written for Three Word Wednesday at: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/
mypenandme 
I like the metaphor “greet the wind”. It has so many possibilities of understanding. It is not always a rewarding experience in one sense: Hurricane season in Miami.
Thank you, Carl. Glad I live in Toronto.
What breathless imagery..ethereal..I wonder what magic his hands make..Jae
*smiling*
Wow! I love the movement !
These last two almost wrote themselves…
I like this poem. I can feel it.
That’s one of the nicest compliments you could give to me. Thank you.
Your welcome!