Secrets Of The Wind


The willow tree droops low,

the horizon in the distance.

The playground untouched,

fall leaves building up.

As I sit there alone in the park,

I listen to the wind.

It speaks to me,

it tells me stories.

These stories hold great secrets.

The wind holds the stories;

carrying them thousands of miles.

My ears capture these stories.

Every whistle in the wind,

every sudden gust of wind,

every moment of still, silent air sends a message.

I observe closely,

Not wanting to miss important details.

Everyday, the wind carries a new story;

holding new secrets,

Secrets so powerful,

they could drive one insane.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 10/13/10.

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