The Wind
The wind gusted over the forsaken hills
The grasp of its strong, imperishable hands causing a trill of noise
Echoing and rebounding over the delicate curves of the Earth.
The smell of strong grasses and pollens stuck to the winds never ending lungs
Sending both dirt and leaves rustling amidst the scene
Trees and abundances of green licked at the delicate breeze,
As the dance of the sky was mimicked nonchalant by the jubilant bees
The worries of winter long gone
Due the brightening days of the freshly bathed dawn.
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