t.l. finch


You hear it in the desert sands
and feel it in the air.
It's crossing over all the lands
from a dark and secret lair.

It comes across the oceans deep
from places far away,
then moves the heavy clouds to weep
on a dark and rainy day.

Dropping down from arctic waste
on a cold and frozen plain
to lands you'd rather leave in haste
than ever see again.

No one knows to where it goes
or why it's ever been.
They only know how hard it blows,
and the sound of the howling wind.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 26, 2009

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