The Wind

She moves, pushes, gently brushing aggression
Invisible strength and grace lowering
Bending the trees to their limits

Sudden attacks demanding attention

She rips their roots and tumbles the weeds
Interrupting the quiet gathering of leaves
Frightening them into a twisted scurry

Breathing uneven rhythm of heaves

Irritatingly nudging litter down the street bearing against the gutter
Burst of air filling bags of plastic inspiring them to dance
Until whimsically inflating up in flight

Pushing and dropping with all her might

Her soft breeze brushes my hair interrupting my busy mind
Others without warning and involving all her capacity
She comes at me with her heavy hand wakes me from my deepest thoughts
Forcing me to close my eyes as she swallows all their moisture

Vindictively challenging my posture

I watch her from the protected side of the pane
Listening to her howling definition of passion
Laced with her invisible power convincing the earth that she‘s alive and moving
A declaration only lucid, believed, and understood
While standing on the other side of the Pain

Only from the inside can one appreciate her beauty that will sustain

©Elizabeth Zsamboki