Sunrise is naked
Not a drop of moisture
Dresses it in color
Mistral sweeps away the blue
Leaves the sky the color of wind
On a rampage
He whips forgotten pine needles
And foolhardy weeds
Rips doors open
Blows away roof tiles
He is not a single screaming mouth;
He is a horde of a thousand gusts
Galloping down slopes on crazed horses
As trampled reeds, head to the ground,
bend, weep, whimper and moan
In frantic panicked waves
Begging for mercy.
He is unleashed passion
A power
An entity
A whole
Paralyzing
Claiming
Brooking no discussion
No compromise
Mistral overtakes
Rushes
Blinds
Overwhelms
Takes your breath away
Leaves you panting
Restless
Empty
Hungry
For more
Image: http://www.helene-maranolefevre.fr/spip
unbuttoned or undone 
Ever considered to bring out your collected poems in book?
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Toyed with the idea some…
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You should… and a children’s story. You have the gift.
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Thank you for the vote of confidence John. 🙂
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You know i want to see this book. The world needs to see this book.
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Tingling all over now! Jeesh.
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Don’t know what to say, so I’m just sitting here grinning.
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Oh, don’t play coy! 🙂 First Feeling is golden. Did i ever tell you that i follow a girl here on WP who animates children’s books?
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“He is a horde of a thousand gusts
Galloping down slopes on crazed horses” Love that line!
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Thank you! Did we have mistral when you were here? You can hear it scream down the mountain before you feel it.
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Your choice of pics or paintings to go with your poems are always apt! Beautiful poetry, magnificent painting
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Thank you Noel. I try. 🙂
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A wonderful piece of writing, Emm…, and I haven’t heard anyone mention a foehn wind for just ages. In the Rocky Mountains they’re known as a Chinook, in Italy a Sirocco, In the southwest US a Santa Anna, and there are many others known by their own domestic names by their locations. You did all of them justice in your description of the Mistral. Great job !
Paul
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Thanks Paul. We do get the Sirocco here in the summer sometimes; it comes from the Sahara and coats everything with a reddish sand. The Mistral comes from the west for us. He runs down the Rhône to Marseille, hits the Med and makes a left hook along the coastline. An impressive cold wind I tell you.
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Gosh, it sounds like one of the winds off of my beloved Georgian Bay – fierce and harsh… not what I associate with France at all, but there you go, ignorance corrected.
Gorgeous vivid piece of writing.
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Thank you Katalina. Yes, we do have furious winds that are enthralling and exhausting at the same time! Mistral can blow for days. When that happens nerves get frayed big time!
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