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.