Feral Wind Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

The wind blows hard and fast today;
Beating against the windows and
Doors and they swing like wings of
Wounded birds; the iron hinges clank
Like sabres of a defeated warrior;

Shards of glass litter the floor,
Cutting the faces of old photographs-
Of people long dead;
There was no blood, only memories;

The wind comes from rugged hills,
Bringing with it colored dusts from
Wings of slippery butterflies-
That forget the songs of the birds
And seek peace in the dark crevices.

The wind will go away
In an hour; hide in the shady grove
To taste the fragrance of silence
That it has been seeking long.