where the writers are
The Wind


The Wind

Acorns plunking on the roof

leaves quavering and whistling sounds

that soar through the pine trees

whisper your name. 

The dog’s ears take flight, loose paper

 ballerina like swirling over the sidewalk ,

clothes on a line fluttering

undulating waves

whisper your name

Ghostly moans emitting through the walls,  

swift slamming of cabinets and doors

wooden gates

juddering their hinges quivering

whisper your name

Fierce surfs pouncing the shore,

swallowing villages  

and lives within seconds of your passing,

Whisper your might


for farms and living

alternatives  beckoning

change for earth

whisper your praise.

Your colorless, free, and independent

birds ride on your wings

as you float vessels

to new territories and tease

the greatest of sailors

you instigate fables of lost ships

you swipe our hats off

in play and we tip them to you

oh precious wind.