Wind On the Fly

Outside, the wind blows anxious, fidgety, restless howls, on a journey, a pilgrimage escaping here to cross the earthen sphere. High above the tree tops it glides, then swirls, coasting, stops, rustling, rippling, resting, with the branches wrestling. It tugs and pulls at sleeves tearing away the loosened leaves to float and ease quickly down, birds on wing, the fly, hovering above ground. Within its path it draws a chilled breath wrath to fall and cool then observe as it slows the sunlit world shivering below. Strewn leaves blanket all, the bush and brush plant shawls then pile high and deep layered an early snowfall designed by the creator Musky scents waft then abate along the earthen laminate riding the breeze with ease whispering aloud, slips away the breeze.