Echo Moonlight

Whistling Wind

Wish, whoosh, wish,
Singing its daily song,
Whistling to itself
Very merrily,
Smiling and singing,
While it gets its job done.
The wind is blowing,
The trees leaves around,
As we watch as they may dance,
To the mud, to the ground.
Wish, whoosh, wish.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 24, 2010

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