High
Winds
Blow
Around
The
Mountain
From
Santa
Fe,
Tearing
Tree
Limbs
Away,
Scattering
Flower
Petals,
Banging
The
Iron
Gate
Metal
To
Metal.
I stand
And
Stare
As
A
Thousand
Elm
Leaves
Fill
The
Air.
The
Gale
Turns
West
To
South
And
I taste
Dust
In
My
Mouth.
Then,
Ending
The
Day,
The
Sudden
Downpour.
I turn
Away,
And
Shut
The
Door.