The Wind

You cannot see the wind.
    It moves the trees,
    pushes clouds across the sky, 
    surges waves across the lake and sea;

You can hear it–
    whispering through the forest,
    whistling ’round windows and chimney pots
    mourning over hollows in the land;

You can witness
    as it tears the world by shreds
    of gossamer and flying signs,
    sends dust spiraling up into a summer sky,
    whips leaves, fallen, racing through an autumn field;
    drives bitter cold and crystals pluming
    off a rocky mountain peak;
    nudges gently nodding budding blossoms 
    in a spring returning…

You can feel it
warm, off the heated land in the chill of night;
cool, defeating sultry summer sweat;
icy blasting driving winter through your coat;
the feel of speed against your face…

Birds aloft, wings laboring, they fly in place;
Horses stand head-low, and close their eyes;
Old people, buffeted, slowly, mindfully walk on…

You cannot see the wind.

    copyright 2010 CLRedding