I, a Feather in its Hands
Inveterate the lilt of breeze,
the lulling movement of air appease,
to nudge clouds to nowhere in particular,
a swirling gentle persuasion,
so low or high and sometimes
gusts to bend the trees and wonder why I do,
when sight alone can tell its there,
by what it happens to.
Oh fair breeze, a wind so silently so,
that tickles leaves and oh how rippled be
those ponds down by the willows,
shimmering in rings so wide, as trees
bending so elegantly in respect,
their fronds like hair a draping
consolidating the flow,
as winds do blow.
As clouds race up high,
streaking across the azure sky,
as if stretched by hand, elongated white
commanded so by currents of will,
and still the sky evolves
and changes as clouds pursue
their perfect high,
closer to the gates of heaven.
Upon my face I feel the air,
fresh and gentle its soothing,
as just a hint of salt from sea,
enlivens my serenity,
my heart so warmed by recognition,
the calm of waves and lapping sounds
resound within my mind,
the breeze my solemn sigh.
In storms I’m not so sure,
the breeze too harsh for my sensibilities,
as inside I will go, to forego the bluster,
a lack lustered affront
better viewed from my window,
and warm inside I hide
til the confusion subsides,
and a new day offers more.
That feeling, a soothing touch,
like a gentle embrace,
a wind of time’s sweet grace
will always be my favorite,
and attuned I remain to its serene offering,
on days when skies are forever,
and clouds ride the waves,
and I a feather in its hands.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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Such a peaceful serenity you paint with just the right words, Tony. Lovely imagery and phrasing. I love this work. Take care dear poet.
So pleased you appreciated it Phyllis, you support and kindness always appreciated, Take care.