“Every time we get a big gale around here
some people just refuse to batten down.”
we estimate that
ice skating into a sixty
mile an hour wind, fully exerting
the legs and swinging arms
you will be pushed backward
an inch every twenty minutes.
in a few days, depending on
the size of the lake,
the backs of your skates
will touch land.
you will then fall on your ass
and be blown into the forest.
if you gather enough speed
by flapping your arms
and keeping your skates pointed
you will catch up to other
flying people who refused to batten down.
you will exchange knowing waves
as you ride the great wind north.
Billy Collins is my silent mentor in the art and craft of poetry. He has no imitators, but I’m trying hard! This poem takes an ordinary experience, that is expressed in hyperbole, and turns it into a work of art. It is not about the wind, but the suceptibility of humans to succumb to the obvious, as if it were some kind of mystery! And they do it en mass!
Yet another display of brilliance from Billy!