The Breeze

(First draft…)

Cycling along oak tree-lined ways
I lift my face to the breeze
and listen to the song the wind sings
as it brushes through the trees.

Rustling through branches, it sings
of it's journey across the seas 
to reach so far inland, tells tales 
of how it plays with the ocean waves
far away on foreign seas.

I turn my back and the breeze 
plucks my clothes, eagerly pushing past 
on its journey to the next grove of trees 
to sing again its songs for them
of the tales that it weaves.
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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. ladysighs
    Jul 07, 2022 @ 12:58:27

    A first draft.

    How often I’ve come back (even years later) and revised something…for better or worse.

    I don’t think your thoughts could get any better. But I imagine each new cycling experience adds to your enjoyment.

    Reply

  2. Jules
    Jul 07, 2022 @ 18:32:47

    I remember living very inland in Indiana… hardly and breezea from the ocean sang there. But we are closer where we are now. I like this poetic observatonal story and would leave it be 🙂

    Reply

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