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A Wind Dreams
E.W. Richardson |
The wind,
like a misbehaving child,
dashes squealing
down the avenue,
barrelling into unsuspecting
pedestrians...
knocking off hats,
flipping up skirts,
pushing over trashcans
and scattering
the debris over lawns and roads.
The wild exuberance
continues throughout the day
but as the evening approaches,
it curls up in the cool sheets of night,
playing idle lullabies
on wind chimes...
dreaming of itself as a sirocco,
coursing through exotic and ancient deserts
revealing and concealing
secrets and treasures
from the eyes of man.
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