Still, Absent of Breeze
“I miss you”, Breeze wakens and whispers
Beckoning, she bristles pine needles
As the rustling leaves, young and tender,
Echo bells of her forest’s church steeple
Breeze, aloft, amidst azure skies
Sails white satin on pure lapis lakes
Shaping cotton to characterize:
Animation, wisps Breeze with her
rakes
Sonnets, carried on wings of a bird,
Hunting worms in the shade of a tree,
Translate Breeze and her chorus of words:
Morning Musical, Flying Free
Breeze is drowned out by babbling
brooks
Pouring snowmelt across polished stones
Forming stories in Nature’s book
Secret tales writ on breezes, unknown
As her brush strokes the dusk, drawing
nigh
And the sun, dipped in ebon
imbues
Tints of purple and pink drips; tie-dye
Eve’s still air echoes, ”I miss you”, too
****
photo credit: sandra rugina