The Wayward Wind Poem by Deanna Samuels

The breeze was gentle that morn,
soft and cooling,
slowly swirling around the clothes line
where the day's wash hung
drying in the warm sunshine.
A mixture of clothing,
now clean and fresh
from yesterday's wear
of many labored hours.

The clothes hung almost motionless
as though each item was asleep.
As the morning moved on,
without warning,
the clothes suddenly stirred,
a billowing wind picked up
blowing through the line filling
the clothes with air as each alive.

A relentless wind, a wayward wind
stirring the tranquillity,
the peacefulness of the homestead.
Within moments,
the clothes were pulled off their pegs,
enveloped into the twirling vacuum
scattering them far into the countryside,
there perhaps to be found and re-used
to start a life anew.


Written at Courtice, Ontario - January 2024, on a title theme.