Open To The Sound

Rushing, rustling, crunching, slow-soft hum

of wind. Carrying us across the forests and meadows.

Constantly changing from a gust to a breeze.

Tickling our noses to sneeze.

Warming then cooling. In a matter of moments.

All to be felt. Embraced. Entranced.

As we feel you, wind, on our face.

Blessed be are those who seek

the sounds the wind can show.

Across the vast land it blows.

Picking up what it may. Carrying our thoughts and dreams

along.  Listening to our hopes and fears.

Blowing what we do not need out of here.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s