against a sky of
washed out blues
they stand.
shoulders thrown back,
chin high in
defiance, spine rigid,
daring the stream of
insignificant populace
racing past to defeat them.
nonchalantly, they swing their
arms in tune with the wind,
like warriors confident in
indestructible immortality.
they draw my eyes
in awe of their quiet rebellion
yet struck by an
ethereal beauty, a
delicacy belied only by their strength,
a vulnerability reminiscent of
sweet summer days.
we pass them, their lines
advancing and retreating
from my changing perspective.
the moment has passed,
and the warriors left behind,
tall, regal, defiant.
written aug. 24, 2006, on the road to new york
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