The Playful Wind - Margaret Gibson

Published by: Mary B on 12th Apr 2017 | View all blogs by Mary B

The Playful Wind

 

The wind that sighs among the heads of wheat

is playing games, with neither thought nor soul;

its whispers lie, the breeze which cools your heat

is whim alone, your comfort not its goal.

Its fingers touch your face with pleasant scent,

its daggers find your bones in winter frost,

the clouds are toys, and storms are wind's lament -

the wilder winds, the greater human cost.

Yet, wind is not to blame for breaking hearts,

it has no ill intent with its misdeeds;

its nature is to come and then depart

without respect to any other needs.

Enjoy the wind, and fly in it, who dare;

the wind will blow away, it doesn't care.

 

 

By Margaret Gibson

Comments

4 Comments

  • Sandy H
    by Sandy H 4 days ago
    It has taken me some time to absorb this poem Mary....

    sometimes it is quite good to go over the verse, it is a lovely poem and I do so enjoy reading them. Thank You
  • Phyl G
    by Phyl G 4 days ago
    It is the the name of one of Ernesto Cortazar's lovely Video's that Bill Posted Sandy.
  • Sandy H
    by Sandy H 4 days ago
    I shall have to try and find it amongst Bills posts, Thank you Phyl
  • Mary B
    by Mary B 4 days ago
    If you search Playful Wind in the search box at the top of the left hand column you should find it Sandy....... Good Luck :)
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