The Wind
The Wind
By: Miracle Man
1-7-2020
I always arrive without a calling card,
sometimes as a whisper, other times, a gale.
I can leave the landscape in disarray and scarred,
but often in grass, I scarcely leave a trail.
In spring I appear as a zephyr, that’s cooling,
able to lift aloft a kite on a string.
I can be a precursor to a storm that’s fueling,
while I also induce a wind chimes ting.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2020
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