Child Of The Wind Poem by Diana van den Berg

The softly rushing wind tonight,
in crescendos and diminuendos
and ponder-pauses,
recalls the tales it whispered to me
so long ago, so very long ago,
when as a child, I lay in bed
and listened, breathless,
in the living darkness,
feeling the wind's excitement,
silently singing in harmony with it,
longing somewhere in my soul
to share its wild and stormy story
with its passionate joys and sorrows
to any who would understand,
but too young
to know I did,
or how to paint it into
a poem on paper,
and so I kept it secret,
deep in a corner of my being
for all these years,
to spill out
tonight
in wild abandon
and these sparse words.

(9 September 2012)