Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

The Place of No Wind

"...and at first sunlight, the bark of morning..."

The Place of No Wind

We moved to a place of no wind,
fields of lightning bugs,
and at first sunlight,
the bark of morning
a wrinkled tranquility,
the quiet hush of simplicity,
music from the nearby river --
but wait, a twinkle of leaf --
is that a breath of breeze? --
No, I have come to a place with no wind.






More by Michael H. Brownstein → More poetry → Full issue →
Share: 𝕏 f
Reader Comments
0 Reader Comments
Leave a Comment






All comments are moderated.
Commenting policy