Wind

“Words are wind.”  George R. R. Martin

skyward
skyward

I take my time stretching amongst the branches

of the Oak, Walnut and Tulip trees growing in my path.

I don’t mind, they add intrigue to my already uncharted trip

That began miles before I reached here.

Dancing with leaves keeps me afloat as I swirl amongst a feathered nest

Glued to a branch enveloping new hatchlings that perk at my arrival.

With a change in velocity I dip

Toward the moss tufted forest floor and the creatures hiding here.

Decaying logs and bramble brush won’t keep me from surging along

This dirt path that rises to meet me, dropping humus in my wake.

I stumble and tumble my way to an open stream where I skim over stones

Whose shiny backs give energy to my journey.

Racing along the streams curves I take a new path, climbing the craggy edge

Upward, jumping over a hollowed den awaiting its new resident.

Higher I rise, jumping the leaves that welcome me back to their heights

That offer unimpeded views of what lies ahead.

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