David Drowley Poet Free verse

The Wind

With rustle and twirl,
                       The wind
    Sets the leaves awhirl
                      They spin
      Like colored dancers
                       And then
    With a whispered sigh,
                       The wind
Drops them from on high.

        It vanishes through
                       the trees,
       Free and careless as
                        It please;
    Comes back a whisper
                        To tease,
      Through a snowy veil,
                     The leaves
         Into one last dance.

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Gayle Rodd July 20, 2018 at 8:46 AM I felt a sad and brooding cry in this poem. Someone needing the love and understanding of themselves from others, yet not wanting to expose those loved ones to their hurt?? I know we all interpret poetry differently. Very touching.

Gayle Rodd July 20, 2018 at 8:40 AM This was light and playful, calling out the wind in everything it does!