Member-only story
The Wind — A poem
She came; gently at first, with a lovers caress,
All lace and perfume and the promise of peace.
The trees stroked her as she swept through their branches,
Like the arms of the earth they bowed to protect her.
But her peace could not last long.
Quickly they came, thrashing through the night,
A violent enemy gusting harsh and cold.
Billowing with rage they came,
Tearing through the leaves, uprooting the young;
Screaming out their hatred that she had ever lived.
But the Wind just breathed in their power and took it for her own.
Round and around she whirled, faster and faster,
Until nothing but the scream of the messengers could be heard.
And then she blew.
Many years have passed since she sacrificed herself.
But now, on a summers night, they stood.
In a quiet glade, they stood.
And waited.
And waited.
When she came they screamed into the howling.
Such willing minds, willing hearts, crying out for knowledge.
