The Morning Wind

An errant breeze

A glimpse of indigo sky

The morning star

proudly incandescent

announces the break of day

There’s a whispering in the cane

Something’s afoot

And the wind is spreading the news

Dry stalks rustling

Leaves twisting like desiccated snakes

The mountains glow like a painting

In the burgeoning dawn

The wind is stronger now

No longer playful

Its sudden sorties menace

Then go still

Where is it now?

The birds are strangely silent

the crickets alone

dare to ring their monotonous dirge

No sun, only shadows

Firmly etched give definition

To the hills

Lights flicker and grow dim

As leaves all spent

 flutter to the awakening ground

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