WIND

 

A gentle brush against my face,

Like loversí soft caress,

Or feel of Angelís lightest touch,

Help ease what may distress.

 

Stirring like someone awakened,

Just shortly after dawn,

To dance and play, and toss the leaves,

That rest upon my lawn.

 

Invisible yet felt by all,

Wished for on hottest day,

To muss the hair and cool the brow,

And bring relief our way.

 

To sometimes display all anger,

Thatís stored up in her soul,

To unleash damage and inflict,

Tear down what once was whole.

 

But then to rest when storm has passed,

Her fury surely spent,

So that the day when Wind is calm,

We wonder where she went.

 

©  2003  Loree (Mason) OíNeil

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