Trust not the wind
for on his blowing
is carried the scent
of blood red false dawns.
Be wary of the gentle breeze
for in its gathering curl
hides the anger of the storm.
Trust not the gentle breeze
for by his mood swings
are giant redwoods snapped
and seas given swords.
The lull before the storm, well stated here Bill. I wrote a poem called 'The Storm' and 'Wind Song' which you might like to peruse sometime. Weather can give us super subjects within its range. Again I liked this one. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem stated what I am feeling in this very moment. I cried. Very beautiful. Amy