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Month 3:9

From her kitchen chair, she listens to the wind. Sugar sifter.
From a room upstairs, she listens to the wind. El train.
From the cellar door, she listens to the wind. Penny whistle.
Her only brother, all winter in bed, coughs & coughs & coughs.

 

A four-line fiction by Therese L. Broderick

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

3 responses »

  1. Evocative, rather sad and lonely seeming.

  2. Kimberly Draiss

    Kind of neat- how the different objects give a really strong sense of the wind’s strength from each location’s perspective. I really like your blog!

  3. Kimberly Draiss

    Come to think of it- the wind sounds like a freight train from my upstairs on many chilly nights; we live across from farmland where the wind comes through and gains a ton of momentum before its slamming of the back of my house!

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