Poetry - The Wind

Inspired by our visit to the Cliffs of Moher .

Photo by Johnny McClung on Unsplash

The Wind
by Marilyn R. Wilson

High up on the hills
Deep valley below
Bereft of all trees
Sun caressing us all.

The grass a soft carpet
Of a most delicious green
So say the shaggy sheep
Grazing in nature's café

Looking up a delight
Sky a vivid, bright azure
Dotted oh so randomly

With fluffy, cotton balls

Coastline rugged and wild
Sea waves crash on the shore
A loud, rhythmic cacophony
Yet it still soothes my soul

Powerful, strong winds
Play with all on the hill
Like a fickle wild child
Shoving and gusting

A knee-length raincoat
Cocoons me protectively
Acting as a sail with
My body the strong mast

Driven crazily forward
Tumbling awkwardly back
The wind and I play games
My inner child now joyful

Time eventually runs out
Our play time had ended
I turn sadly into the wind
And lean into its embrace

That wild fickle child

Still gusting and swirling
I leaving tripping, yet laughing
At their exuberant goodbye