Önd

turning,
a touch on my cheek.
breeze
wind
leaves circling gold/brown dust
spiral scurry of
wind hair feathers
stream surface dancing with rippled
light,
stillness to movement,
tree-branches shaken wake, streaking the sky
scudding clouds,
wind gusting waves white-capped;
birds drop and soar, circle and plunge
rise wind-tossed, tumble
and recover, in their acrobatics
a course shifted from that they held before.

change
turnings
Önd

a breath on my soul


Copyright © J Blain 1998

All rights reserved

return to index of poems