The Wind
The wind is whistling a tune today;
I heard it whisper only yesterday;
A week ago, how it did roar;
As passed a storm of epic lore;
Sometimes the wind just whimpers;
As it scatters the leaves asunder;
Often, I’ve detected a mere squeak;
As it moves about mild and meek;
Gusts are wind at its finest;
They blow upon us as if to test,
If our lives are set on solid ground;
So, we shan’t be scuttled all around.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
