To The Wind Poem by Bengt O Björklund
To The Wind
I dare all winds that crawl like stricken birds
over grassy hills in gloomy desperation,
that bellow in the late hours of the night
with hideous sighs of see-through glass:
Leave me here to time’s devices,
to the sound of seashells and more,
let gentle perish be my hollow mass
and sand all my broken feet shall know.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
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4/27/2024 11:46:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
