Author Information
Calling The Wind
Folder:
Nature/Environment The air is hot, dry and suffocating
Tis choking, thinning; Life is dying.
In the clouds; no less, hiding.
I whistle, calling the wind; He hears
my cry. A cold chill touches me,
Pricking my senses, soaking my bones;
A summer chill disposes. I look up
to the sky, The wind is whining nigh.
Moaning for an evening rain.
Trees are trembling; leaves swaying fast
Like storms brewing an evening mass.
Of a roaring lion sending signal tales
From the blasting winds,
Fearsome and turbulent;
Rain ensues sputtering sounds.
Now it's calm like sweet repose.
A windless endless heatwave,sometimes of weather sometimes of personal experience of challenge that is not met or solved the metaphors let the interpretation be open which is why I really like this...