Rustles Poems | Examples

LISTEN to the Wind

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees." - Kahil Gibran

Listen to the wind; it has many sounds.
Does it roar, rush, gust, swoosh,  hum, thump or wail? 
It can whisper innocently or bay like hounds.
If you groan or whine, wind may mimic you,
moaning or muttering. It might even howl
like a wounded troop that is dying to pass through
or like a soul battered by words and deeds most foul.
Antagonized too much, a tempest wind can be -
swirling violently – almost incessantly.
Listen to it; wind can be much like you and me.

But just as we can hear the wind, can you believe
that maybe – just maybe – the wind has ears as well?
What if it knows US? What secrets might it tell?
Listen to the wind as it moves through grass and reed.
Does it carry secrets in each gentle breeze
as it breathes and rustles leaves upon the trees?
People like to say that Zephyr whispers.
How fitting it would be if secrets wind has heard
live always within nature – each and every word!

Nature is magic

I love the smell of dew on the grass, when a new day has just begun. I love to watch the flowers as they turn their heads towards the Sun.

I love to hear the gentle whispers of the welcoming breeze. 
I love to watch as it rustles through, the leaves upon the trees.

I love to watch the Angelic rays from the sun as they pierce through the branches of a tree. Creating a kaleidoscope of pretty shapes on the undergrowth for all to see.

I love to watch the clouds as they gracefully float on by, like fluffy balls of candyfloss complementing the blueness of the sky.

I love to hear the intenseness of the thunder, as it rumbles way up high. And the flashing from the lightening's rage, as it fork's across the sky.

I love to listen to the heavy rain as it bounces of the ground. 
A harmonious, symphony of notes, with its own unique sound.

I love it when a rainbow grace our sky after the poring rain . 
A masterpiece of pretty colours, cupping the earth in its domain.

There is beauty all around for those with eyes to see. Nature is magical, it is captivating, it is abundant and it is free.

Sultry Charm Of Summer

Tangy summer , breezes in heat 
Through this season your sighs enthrall
And drench  red moonlight so replete
Beneath your  sunburnt, air - kissed stroll.

The silken air drapes  blossoms scent
Releasing this wild, fragrant balm
Then rustles every tree's intent
To sway, to dance midst cycle's psalms.

Bold  nights release stars’ blinking glow
Caressing burnished  passion's ease,
That only your zest can bestow
The sultry romance of caprice .

Beneath the sizzle of glossed beams
Entice love's play with your charmed dreams!

Summer Haiku 32

                    Summer Breeze 32                 
                       

 A light summer breeze,

 Cool air rustles through the leaves,

 Nature's softest sigh.

Afterglow

Softly we drown through the gathering whiteness,
we float in splendor on ripples of calm.
Gentleness drawn from the lingering brightness,
shadows anoint us with whispering balms.

Softly, oh so softly, the angels are singing,
the star beams are winging their intricate dance;
and slowly, so slowly, in cadence most holy
the glistening sparkles envelop and entrance.

Softly, so softly they graze us,
rustles of silk in the cushion-blind pall.
Images strange to entrap and amaze us,
shrouds to protect us should ever we fall.

Softly, softly, ever so softly
we drown through the angels that graze us so deep,
and the dance of the stars that entraps us so roughly
propels us with gentleness down into sleep.

Everlasting Song

Music stills my breath, in a sigh
my heart falls silent – she’s at rest
light aglow, walking through the sky
a song of praise, a soul’s been blessed

melodies of richest praise, light
falling over the heart, the soul
dissolving the shadows of night
scattering the wind, she’ll console

harmonizing with the healing skies
beautiful that lasts beyond grief
stories in poetry, the soul will rise
rustles of silence like autumn’s leaf

breathing grace beyond the hills
lingering in the spirit, still waters stumble
across the trembling darkness, she thrills
remembering the song, so humble

songs break through the shadow’s edge
promising a dance with winglike grace
pouring out melancholic – light’s pledge
sounds of darkness she’ll surely erase

music tears through the forest’s serenity
glowing on the stars, the moon, beliefs
blended with the spirit’s strong identity
singing to the night, ballad’s quiet reliefs

never forget the song a grateful soul sings
as it travels to the land of grace and peace
writing its life story with the pen it brings
created by One who’s song will never cease

Hopeless Allure

In twilight's hush, where shadows play,
Amidst the trees, a whisper'd sway,
The wind, a zephyr, soft and low,
That stirs the leaves, and rustles slow.

The island dreams, in languid sleep,
Its beauty wrapt, in mystery deep,
The moon, a ghost, in silver white,
That glimmers through, the dark of night.

The woman walks, with steps so light,
Her hair, a cloud, that flows behind,
Invites my touch, with gentle, loving light,
Her eyes, two stars, that shine and wind.

The island's heart, beats with her own,
In rhythm sweet, of love unsealed and known,
The trees, like sentinels of old,
Guarding the secrets, of the heart, untold.

In this still place, where love does reign,
The woman's beauty, holds its sweet domain,
And I, a wanderer, in this fair land,
Am bound, a captive, to her enchanting hand.

My Love for You is

the spring that 
feeds the stream that
grows into a river that
wanders the land that
sways the valleys that
nurses the trees that 
hides the lake that
mirrors the sky that
veils the night that 
reveals the stars that
adores the moon that
brings the tide that 
washes the shore that 
awaits the dawn that
cradles the sun that
warms the wind that
chases the gust that 
rustles the leaves that
rouses the birds to
sing your name so 
the world may hear 
the songs of Spring.

Away in the Heather

When a warm breeze rustles the leaves

You can thank the sunny weather 

When a clouded sky passes by

A soft rain moistens the heather

When a bird sings on feathered wings

And the grass sheds the morning dew

When I think how far away you are

All my thoughts rush back to you

White Eagle

Spirit of the great white eagle.
A beautiful, majestic bird, so regal.

She is gifted with love to behold.
She spreads her wings, lined with gold.

She soars into the morning sky, 
Beckoning for the sun to rise.

As life awakens, she calls for Gaia.
She brings forth a vibrant white aura.

All Life welcomes her loving songs.
As the roots of the earth grow strong.

Wildlife is grateful for the beautiful new day. 
Gentle wind rustles the trees, as they sway.

Twilight entices life’s well-deserved rest.
As the Eagle flies to the Black Canyon to her nest.

She tucks her head in her wing; feeling content.
The universe blesses her with loving intent.

Ruby Traces of Night

Written: December 02, 2024 
                          ____________________________

At dawn cradle, 
Dew blankets the earth, 
whispered secrets swirl among stately elms, 
a chorus of cheerful waxwings 
sings beneath the blush of lavender skies.

Willows sway, swirls of grace,  
twilight traces with ruby tones.   
The iris dances,  
emerging from lush shadows,  
each petal a whisper of dreams.

Aureolin moments linger,  
gold glistening in the mist,  
as rustles paint the air,  
the viol of night lilts softly,  
celestial orbs clad cosmic clashes.
 
We walk through opal pathways,  
where the heart shares its stories,  
and neon memories cling,  
as lilacs in a gentle breeze—  
O, the beauty in being lost.

Blow'n

   Blowing again,
   Will it ever end?

   Leaves fall.
   I blow.
   Squirrels throw nuts.
   I blow.
   Twiggs fall.
   I blow.
   Wind rustles.
   I blow.

   Its fall,
   This is how my day goes.
   Blow, blow, blow!

November serenade

the stream meanders
its ribbon rippling under a tired sun
that time seems to have forgotten

yet the afternoon warmth
exudes its ambrosial cachet
in the most gracious of manners

meanwhile a september breeze
gently rustles playful leaves
that have begun to turn

and autumn most willingly
parades in robes of elegance
with multicoloured jewels

Scene From A Hill

The twilight brings a gentle breeze
that rustles the leaves above me
where I sit on a hill overlooking a vast meadow
of purple asters and flowering orange butterfly weeds

I'll wait here to watch the sky change
from light blue gray to red and orange
   as the sun slowly falls 
behind a thin red-threaded horizon

where the first glimmer of a star appears
and the sound of crickets start their melody
shades and shadows dance through the meadow
as the setting sun begins to fade away
and a quarter moon rises in the northern sky

as the sky blackens stars become more visible
and the meadow has darkened
while fireflies start their nightly lamp-lighting
and the sound of frogs are heard in the distance
   telling me it's time to leave

Whispers of Autumn with Winter Looming

A leaf dried to brown maraca, rustles.
Moon-beam driven breeze, curls in ears, whispers.
Subtle call of summer's passing, puzzles.
As green summer grass fades to grey, whiskers.

You can hear the patter of dew, pinging.
The limbs of trees squeezed, tight and shrunk, crackling.
Bells toll the end of summer's reign, ringing,
As the cool winds shake the eaves loose, rattling.

Geese V's migrate south, honking and hinking.
Squirrels chattering, alert owls hooting.
Pebbles in streams bang together, clinking.
Brash summer sounds are quelled quiet, muting.

Autumn whispers winter's advent, looming.
Lilting a soulful bluesy song, crooning.

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