The wind is blowing
through the trees, through the masts
whipping up the water
It is a constant rush, a varying roar
a restless conversation
White clouds sometimes get spread
before the sun
their shadows swiftly borne
across the land, the water
It has been like this all day
Such power
Effortless, insistent
Pulled by some invisible, compelling urge
Through and through the hours
I know this wind
It’s not infrequently
it blows through me all day
Feeling of constant crescendo
moving me, lulling me,
sweeping me mystical
Bearing me off on a dream.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 8, 2012