Spring Wind
A restless poem
leaves
and unripe fruits
strewn on the bricks
birds
hugging close to sturdy trunks
venture out only
for food or drink
this active symbol of spring
can tear at the minds
of many
who see only dust
and hear only the wild buffeting gusts
when I was young
I adopted the wind as my brother
it was the relative with whom
I had most in common
even when it pelted me with sand
or threatened to shake me from a tree
it was the best friend
and understood me
Ah, Wind
you make me full
and empty
I am scattered
by your gust and whirl
Dana Sanford
2019
