Photo by Jess Loiterton on

There's a bit of a breeze
in the trees, if you please,
making  me wheeze,
almost sneeze.

I believe it's the least
of the beast from the east,
come here to feast,
off the piste

on mountains of litter
that jitters and skitters,
scaring critters
and quitters.

If this wind stays ahead,
I'll be led, by a thread,
truly it's said,
to my bed

where I'll labour to stay
for the day in the hay;
lazily lay,
if I may.

15 Comments on “Wind

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