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