Standing In The Wind Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Standing in the wind tasting the
air as it rushes past me, I am

surprised that the sound of life
has not generated more excitement.

Trees glow with their own power
and the leaves of summer burn

brightly green through my mind.
I wonder about the looping branches

of an ordinary life. Sustained by hope,
I imagine the being out of doors for

the remainder of my life. The bustling
grass inviting me to lie down and enjoy

the patterns of nature as it rumbles
through the day. I find myself in the

midst of something I will not understand.
There seem to be rumours and false

information floating around my thoughts.
I take a drag of my cigarette, and as I do

it starts to gently rain. I continue to stand
in it, getting wet. After so much nothing

I hear something is going to happen and
I know it might possibly affect me. I know

that whispered voices always mean mystery
and finally with anticipation I shut myself

away from the sound of dissension. I am
only here, with little chance of renewal.