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When Wind is all that Lingers MAG
A lone bird chirps to a gray sky
pulling me from the peaceful dreams ofsleep
yesterday, the air was scented with misery
and today doesn't appearany better;
out in the world, a pause to remember
my eyes fix on a gust ofwind,
meandering through the tallest of trees
leaves scatter, treestremble and wave ...
but recover.
I wish I could rearrange theclouds
paint them in lighter shades, add some color
but it is not within mypower.
I must accept the mornings as they come;
the bird's drone seeps intothe background
fading to nothing but a silent cry, a plea.
A jet breaksthrough the morning stillness
I still remember,
remember the sound ofbuildings collapsing,
of sadness, and of silence,
a sound all toofamiliar.
The wind brushes through the towering trees,
and for the timebeing,
the world has stopped to listen.
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