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ZEPHYR
I am the breath of teardrops drying
A whisper coaxed awak’ning on rippled pond
Shadows creeping amid the grey stones
Concealing both prey and predator
A faint kiss to lift the butterflies aloft
Caress the wafting scent of budding roses
A shiver on the sweaty back of toil
A riffling of leaves still wet at dawn
A gladdened moment dancing with a feather
The dusty face of tumbleweeds at play
I am the humming voice of towering pines
That eerie whine amid the canyon stones
I am a sound e’er present in the silence
A gentle hint that life is everywhere
Copyright ©
John Lawless
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