Wind Poem

There are winds out there, they cause the windows and doors 

to move. They have their own language.

This is not as easy as stealing from the blind.

As I walk through forests the trees seem to move behind me.

The splittered wood has not been made into books, and

the muddy path pulses, a second birth.

This is not real, these are things inside of me,

ice on branches, sleet on frozen ground, words as rain.

They circle around me like cold, brown leaves.

Reviews

[Pax]

beautiful and earie wind. good job

[G!o]

I love this...i love the hidden meaning. Short and great writing. I love the last stanza....

[Distant horizons]

Beautifully brought to life.

[Brittany]

I enjoyed the symbolism of nature. Well done.