*
to ride the wind
is an old dream of mine
I have to (be) content for now
just whispers to my ears
wind that moves foliage
and flowers alike
that caresses the surface
of sea and rocks alike
to soar to dive to lazily
float around thing
breathing again
and again
powerful
weightless
.
.
.
.
.
*
no wind moaning
no shutters flapping
.
doors standing still
in the darkest night
.
heat rising piercing through
as light enters the crack
.
at daylight no crickets
or frogs telling stories
.
just the heavy stillness
of some summer nights
.
away from breezed seas
laying awake interspersed
.
.
*
.
here I try to free
the space between
.
a glimpse of sleep
and the will to utter
.
the sun hiding
silent is the wind
.
he works his mission
out with diligence
.
got no surprises
just time to linger
.
.
*
I could hardly believe
the frozen mid tone
that blanked me
out
.
I recall stares as nails
pushing me back
hands hesitant
once
.
It was steps in the night
words over a phone
run fast come
now
.
You state foolishness
pinning down
the wind
still.
.
.
annamosca 