In the Wind

 

A wild wind blows on the hill

to fell the leaves still clinging on

it chases them across the road

and leaves them scattered on the lawn

We are like the fallen leaf

chastened by a feral wind:

spun by gales in tempests tossed

no symmetry, undisciplined.

A voice emerges from the past

it echoes through the barren tree

calling out through rasping gale

to such unworthy progeny.

Yet heartened by this song I hear,

held captive in this solitude;

in its chords my fears are quelled

all stress and pain have been subdued.

I mourn the days of youth, misspent

but in the years that have ensued

there’s not a thing that I’d repent

the cherished friends that I’ve accrued

 

…a wild wind blows upon the hill

    and in its voice I hear you still.

© Ginny Brannan

Image by Charlie Parant at Appetite for Photos. Used with expressed written permission. Thanks, Charlie.