Wind Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

Crispy wind
Beating against the panes:
Flying as a monster
Over huts, streets and lanes;

It beats
Against faces turning beads,
Of small eyes,
And lifts oiled hair as threads;

Crispy wind
Crackles amidst leafy boughs;
A mature tide
It moves with highs and lows;

Over hilltops
It scribbles forms with clouds;
Slipping down
Verdant slopes with sounds.

Crispy wind
Thin and thick, hot and cold;
Drags itself
Hollow shroud weak and bold;

Weaving pleats
Rolls itself to enhance might;
Intoxicating flavor
A silent flame that melts at a height.