The wind will do its best to whip me.
It will stir up great commotion
and colorfully respond
to my mood in this season.

My longing…
The same longing of a billion before.
The only differences-
perspective
and positioning.

Awake!
No more the calming.
Ever restless,
I am carried away
by the breeze.

Remembering this feeling
at each stage of my progression.
A child raking then tumbling in the piles-
An adolescent watching with some agony as the leaves die with dignity-
A melancholy adult amazed by how quickly it flies-

Yes, I admit that I might get caught up in its moment
but I refused to be defeated by this wind of change.

always glad to see your take on things.

One of my regrets, a small one, is that we do not experience the changing of the seasons like most of the country does. I like this poem Frosty, good job.

Les

Thanks guys. Almost took this down