I sit in the dark and rock, listening to the wind
Play in the trees,
It speaks to me of expectations that have not been fed
And of flowers and rain.
It moves the dross from the trees while they dance
In graceful pleasure.
I know the wind and the wind knows me.
It has caresed my body on muggy summer nights
And has jarred me into awakening while
Cutting through me like a knife.
All the while whispering…..live……live……live
Posted by Barbara’s Blog at 1/13/2013 6:23 PM