An ill wind blows from the north,
It rushes down the mountain
Greedy for space and recognition
It shoves its way through slopes,
Turns over chairs and umbrellas,
Smashes glass to the ground in anger,
And roars through tree limbs shrieking
“Stand in my way and I’ll kill you!”
It whips the pond in endless ripples.
Waves crash on shore, bend reeds,
And leaves weeping rocks behind.
The ill wind bullies the creek.
Birds scatter and hide.
Poppies shake in panic,
Honeysuckle quivers, bows in fear.
But the wild grass sways and twists,
Folds and snaps back, tosses her head
And laughs at the foolish wind.
I survive storms and droughts.
You are but an inconvenience,
A spotty interlude.
Tomorrow you will be gone. Spent.
But I’ll sing in the sunshine
I’ll laugh everyday.