Chinook Winds
Marsha Foss
Into the winter depths a dry
warm wind descends
even deeper
reaching the frozen wheat
of my low-lying soul.
I should not have planted so far north,
far from the long summer days
and the friends.
But now you come
bringing with you promises
you cannot keep,
warmth that will not last,
winds that will turn harsh.
How can I be fooled by such a fleeting paradise,
knowing the betrayal of tomorrow will be cruel.