The wind blows
The trees sway and
Rustle noisily.
The dust swirls,
and clings to everything.
It's another bad hair-day!
But it's only the month of May
and better days will come.
The wind will stop
the trees will again
reach for the sun and
the bees will hum.
My glorious life will continue!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely writing, and thanks for the comment Mom!