The Tempest Calls
Storm is coming
Power crackles in warm,
Thick air
As wind rushes through,
Capers and rolls.
No need to rush.
The storm,
Confident in its power,
Can take its time.
Such power!
Enough to overwhelm mere mortals,
I am exuberant nonetheless.
Danger, perhaps,
But the excitement!
This is life, is it not?
Voice beckons from open door.
I must go in.
But please,
One more moment?
Just one more?

 
 
Maelstrom
A storm approaches,
Soft and swift
On wind-blown wings,
Wafting on cold air.
I can feel it,
The violent symphony
Of noise and motion and light.
Thrilling – exhilarating
In the rush of the wind
And the pound of the rain,
I can let the world go,
And for once,
Feel sane

 
 
Fly Away
I feel the wind on my face.
Close my eyes.
Slip away.
The world drops below,
Into the clouds.
How funny,
It seems,
To think that it meant so much,
Everything below.
From here
It is different.
From here
It is calm.
No longer running,
One place to the next.
“What if?”
“I must”
No.
What matters is here,
Outside
In the wind.
 
 
Storm
Rain falls.
Dark skies spit tiny droplets
From their foreboding depths.
And yet,
Although gloomy,
The morning is
…calm.

 
 
Breathless
Magnificent
Pressure builds
Air stirs
Wind breaks forth
In a violent cataclysm
Of motion and sound.
The storm has begun

 
 
Fly Free
Bird in clear sky
How I envy you
-you look so free
Your wings, the wind
The earth below
Your life appears so simple
Clean

And though I know
This vision
Is simply another dream
Still you fly on,
The earth is gone
Your world
Just you and your wings
-free

 
 
Breezes Play
They are the wind
Fleet, flicker and gone
Soft like snow on diamonds
Shine
In an instant
Insidious
Then slips away
To a world
We catch one glimpse of
In a golden moment
That never quite fades away
But then is gone,
Again

 
 
To Touch a Cloud
If I could fly, and touch a cloud,
See all their mysterious glories!
I heave a sigh, look from the ground,
And dream of childhood stories

 
 
Dragonfly Haiku
Dragonfly in flight
Wings shine, a display of grace,
Then vanish once more

 

Blow

5/14/2011

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Blow
A breeze,
Soft, gentle,
Yet mischievous all the same
Plays with my hair,
Bending my paper to and fro
Here one moment, and gone the next
But never fear!
Returning once more for a heartbeat
Another interest is found
And off it goes again
-free