Windy Day Poem by Steve Wexler
Windy Day
One of those days of wind and all but rain,
That dilate the tiny vessels of the brain;
The sky a dim but stubborn glow -
Portending what? Man cannot know.
A wind which pulling not cannot be pushed,
And never wild is never hushed;
When oaks that wail and gales and laugh at years
Can manage but a few dry tears,
When sparrows bicker among draughty leaves,
And feverish grasses whisper their unease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 1:28:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
