A Poem: A wind is blowing

The air is ancient, swirling molecules of past generations

Recycled and recharged by an atmosphere moving through time

A breeze that blew on the face of my grandmother,

Tousled the hair of a little girl, my mother

That lifted a kite on a string for a child, her son

This fragrance of warmth rustles dry leaves of giant oaks

July winds that have parched an earth before and will again

Drawing moisture from the ground, to clouds swollen above

Until the weight of rain is released in a single burst,

A salve at best, a cruel tease at worst for those that thirst

A wind is blowing, what fortunes will it share

A wind is blowing, what stories will it air

An original composition by the author of Ends and Beginnings