The Wind Poem by Sara Dickson
The Wind
The wind as soft as baby skin,
Calling out to swirling kin,
No answer, scream the wind with anger,
Beat against and wither earth,
Moan relentlessly like ghost,
Bend the forests at their knees,
Blow the old man's hat away to the sea,
Then cried a shrill laugh as,
The waters taunt a vicious deed.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
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4/23/2024 4:31:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
