Wind
I’ve fallen to the winter’s dust
And nurtured on His blood.
I’ve aged like desert sages green
That lean to bend the bud.
I’ve ripened under bleaching sun,
The rain and drifting dearth.
I’ve taken root in sifting sands
That rock this gentle earth.
Long withered past the dewy crown,
My blossomed seed dispersed,
I hunger for His driven wind
And bend to quench my thirst.
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.
