An ill wind blows from the north,
It rushes down the mountain
Violent, hungry,
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.
“All is grass.” The humblest is the most enduring.
rjb
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Yup. A blade of grass is easy enough to bruise, but not so easy to eliminate. All it needs is sunshine and a drop of water now and again.
Thank you Jim.
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Tornado, or tornadic personality blowing through your life? Both reek havoc. Both, for the most part, are survivable. We are like dust in the wind, say the poets and the minstrels.
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Ah yes, just specks of dust to be sure. Just a drop of water in an endless sea…
It’s good to see you again. I hope you are well. Smiling.
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I am, thanks.
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I love this. Just love it.
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Thank you. I am glad you liked it. Smiles
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That grass is so full of life and I hope your life is equally green and full.
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Thank you Noel. Grass in the wind has a life of its own.
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our wind took out a tree last night. wind ain’t nuttin to mess wit.
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Know your enemy.
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Tu as fait tres bien encore une fois, cherie.
On dit:
We’ll sing in the sunshine
Then I’ll be on my way
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Merci UnElephant.
C’est l’hymne des papillons je crois et nous en sommes.
On butine, on chante, on rit et on s’envole dans un sourire un peu triste.
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Hi Emm,
Wind…, just a typical blowhard !!! Why is it that “ill winds” always come from the north…, not the east, west, or south…, always the north. Sounds like prejudice to me. 🙂
“But I’ll sing in the sunshine
I’ll laugh everyday.”
I’ll sing in the sunshine,
Then I’ll be on my way….. (New Christie Minstrels, circa 1970s I think) Always liked that song.
Hugs, ………Paul
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Yes, that’s the song I thought about as the muse gave me the line…
Usually our violent wind comes from the west. This one, the north wind, is of a different caliber.
Pure nasty.
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I love the ‘honeysuckle quivers..’ this is a beautiful poem. I love it!
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Thank you for noticing. 😉
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Wind is always going somewhere, never stopping or a chat… a meeting to be had up the road to which no one is ever invited.
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Very well put. Thank you John
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