Written by: Cherie Black
A robust breeze lifts the pages
of my book. My fingers
hug the paper tighter, keeping
words readable. Voices - interjections -
from little people
excited about the grassy hill
and from big people
about "what they deserve"
blend with words from Amos,
he who creates the wind declares
to man what is his thought.
The warm sun balances
occasionally brisk air and I lie
back, close my eyes and rest.
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