The Wind

When the wind sweeps its fingers through my hair

I feel the brush of distant fields.

It wraps me in the scent embrace

of things I still hold dear.

 

It draws my mind to clover fields

and strolls beneath an open sky.

It soothes my mental chaos with

the scent of pine that looms above

while settling into peace.

 

It paints upon the canvas of my heart,

such scenes of love and aromatic joy.

They sweep me up to mountain peaks.

The cool brisk wind that sings and roars,

as height’s majestic view unfolds

beneath my overhanging toes.

 

It teases memories of another wind

I’ve felt within as spirit soared.

A sweeping lift, that opens sights

of things I’ve dreamed but never seen.

I shift perspective as I rise

as singing swirls of whispered joy,

births tantalizing life.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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