Take

Take as your mentor the warm south
Notus wind that never blows harm but
sweeps the air clean of Plancus cloud
sparklewarming it; cleanse each
pang and care in a wash of yellow wine
whether in camp the arching sky with
standards jammed or home alone at dusk
watching the Tiber darken;
Salamina fleeing and his fathers' wrath
Teucer supposedly woundbound his temples
with poplar sprigs...

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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