A Windy Day

November 26, 2012 § 2 Comments

Sunny with strong wind. The trees are cutting pieces of sunlight, hastily throwing them into our houses. Less generous clouds on their way.

This wind, meeting us half way, has, elsewhere, stolen voices and secrets, destroyed trees and houses, but comes to us weak and regretted.

(What to think? What to do? No one has ever punished the wind.)

Late at night:

The wind’s last coughs now. Darkness is a strong liqueur. The moon lets the clouds caress her. Nothing scares a future queen. Not the wind.

The next morning:

The wind is gone. Taken are: the last leaves. Given is: a clear moon. But I miss the morning song.

 

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