Clouds
mind so
cloudy, waiting for
that one day, sunny
but why feels like windy
and eyes so rainy all day.
Breeze in the helmet
slight lift off leather seat
hang on tight to grips
It's a windy day
The bushes sway
The Robins play
There's a lot to say
Wind carries away
words that will not stay
But morals refuse to stray
like a boat with no anchor at bay
There is a lot to pay,
where falsehoods lay
Heidi Sands
4/11/26
(C)opyrighy
Tonight, her footsteps crack and moan —
She's useless when her tears frost over,
The gutter running without her, alone
There's another ghost inside porchlight silver,
A foot melting on the banister —
She's dark as the wind that picks her up,
This twisting whirl of white clumps
Against wind now seeming touchable —
Outside, the snow jumps
With the draft...and then the window's wail,
Being broken apart like snowflakes assails,
She touches the real parts in foggy glass —
The cold that blasts through a girl's face,
Years after, the woman outside this table —
So the terrace is her cup, white laughter, dark tastes.
Windy days wreath icy blast into bones;
Sun rays and fahrenheit cannot outlast.
Fingertips and toes exposed to cyclones.
Beneath my hood, cold eyes and cheeks hold fast.
Sun rays and fahrenheit cannot outlast
Jack Frost; his bitter touch entertainment.
Beneath my hood, cold eyes and cheeks hold fast.
Shivers, what’s left of Autumn derangement.
Jack Frost, his bitter touch entertainment.
Blustery shadows wound up tight, let go.
Shivers, what’s left of Autumn derangement.
Awaits a pile of leaves ready for snow.
Blustery shadows wound up tight, let go.
Fingertips and toes exposed to cyclones.
Awaits a pile of leaves ready for snow.
Windy days wreath ice blast into bones.
Last continent to which humans did divert;
Antarctica has highest elevation.
Frozen tundra limits its vegetation;
With slight precipitation—a cold desert.
Final Earth region sighted—1820;
98 percent covered by mile-thick ice.
Compared to Australia, its size nigh twice;
Subglacial lakes give it water aplenty.
Antarctic Treaty signed by 50 nations;
Protects ecozone of this land south polar.
During high summer, full days of light solar,
For thousands of people at research stations.
Despite harsh conditions, wildlife survives here.
Snow petrel, other birds have Antarctic home.
Fur seals, emperor penguins, other breeds roam;
One thousand-plus species of fungi appear.
Though it’s the fifth largest continent in size,
Antarctica leads in average wind speeds.
Controlling sea levels, serving other needs;
Keeping Antarctic ice shelves stable is wise.
It’s way too windy for a hat.
With just one gust, well, that is that,
So though I wore one, once I sat,
I took it off my head.
I watch the waves producing foam
As I compose my daily poem,
But it’s too nice to hurry home
So I’ll stay here instead.
The sun is warm and strong and bright
Before some rain moves in tonight.
For now, the atmosphere’s all right,
Though hatlessness has spread.
A WINDY SUMMER DAY
Planes sailing the sky…
Waving trees shadow the sun…
Kid’s paper plane day…
It is late September again.
Under a warming sun, your hand holds my hand.
Now the horizon sits – a silent spectator.
When gently huffs the wind,
twilight cascades upon my skin.
We lay in misty vapor from
dusk’s bursting promise
as ink paints a panorama of primrose.
As luminous streams of stars
paint my poetic sky,
stirring my moon-swept soul,
soft fire is his eyes.
I glow through starlight,
embracing our marrow’s warmth.
Let the strongest of winds come -
our hand hold will never end.
windy breezy day
green tree leaves move like pompoms
snakes hide in the ground
It's too cold for angels to fly up here,
It's too windy to raise a fire.
Explosion?
I don't know her.
And she doesn't care who or what she destroyed.
Life is just like a shard of frozen gold,
Coveted most when it cracks and ends.
Pardon me for being so bold,
But in the end even beauty here stinks.
The sun does beam
Over many a quick stream
That run into valleys flourishing with floral
Where the wind howls with seemingly no morals
It lashes out it's rage against swaying, tall trees
High doe they stand, and far doe they see
Rain falls light
Unless cursed with the winds' might
But on hot, Summers' eves
Does the wind blow little but leaves
Cooling and soothing
Still ever moving
Far is it's reach
From hill top to sandy beach
Carrying birds to and frow
Ever discouraging the hunters' bow
It is a thing of love, and a thing of hate
In any matter it is a thing of great debate
The air it fills
But never as greatly as the valleys' windy hills
Planes streaking the skies...
Waving trees blinking the sun...
Kids soar paper planes...
Wind grieves, singing her song to the twilight
Breathing stories of a distant sun,
Pulsating poetry in rhythms of blue blessings,
Touching the night the way hope sighs
Erasing the silence and coloring the still
With a whisper, misty eyed and effervescent.
Laying in the cool breeze
Drying the sweat on my face
Chilling my skin feeling refreshed
The light touch of God
The unknown rhythm of the wind
Memories of people and places
Flag waving back and forth
Remembering what it means to me
Hair moving with the breeze
Helping to loll me to sleep
Carrying happy dreams
Into the Universe
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