The Wind

Like the sound of wind
Pushing through the woods
Memories rush my mind
Their fingers probe
The deepest crater
In my heart
Drawing us together
Pulling us apart

Like the stirring of a breeze
In the hour before dawn
It feathers the trees
And ripples the lawn
Gentle fingers
Brushing my sigh
As the thought of you lingers
In a tear in my eye

Like the force of a hurricane
Or the roar of the sea
Like warm gentle rain
Crooning a soft melody
Like the rising and falling
Of the night-wind in the trees
Is the bittersweet calling
Of memories



Janet Martin