The Wind
I like the wind
when it flutters
and flaps bed sheets
hung out on a line -
I like how it sweeps
patterns across fields
of tall grass and sends
whispers through
the trees.
I like to see
its breath billowed
in coloured sails
blown across the bay,
and how, in might,
it hurls clouds
of seaspray
high into the air.
But most of all
I like the wind
when it is all done
and curls up
into a drowsy calm
and falls asleep
under a warm
afternoon sun.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2025
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