Wind
to mark the edge of spring
to tilt strawmen 'gainst their will
late April wind shuffles new leaves like a deck of cards
a simple trick
nature in its gliding
the willow rustling
pushed by the huff and puff of big bad wolf intention
a wind that incites the season's freshness
rich romp of swaying
aspirations warring
their swooshing blow of heaving like a magistrate robed
wispy clouds wafted away to find other kin
as whispers fill night air, thick and thin
to hide themselves in willful skies
the wind at one's back, a spritely elevation
when worry mislays direction
when whistles overwash resistance
when the wind is weightless like devout contentment
you'll hear its chords of song
Poem composed April 24, 2023
Revised May 20, 2023
Copyright © Brian Sambourne | Year Posted 2023
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