Don’t listen to the Wind…
I separate the concrete blocks that you
Design so cautiously, so carelessly.
Sapping from Mother Nature; all that makes Her.
The Wind shouts out for me: I’m dissipating.
I house the ones that buzz, with bushy tail
And feathered wing, you say you love Them too.
Severing rooted home; to make your own.
The Wind she moans again: no relocating.
I cast the shadow, raise the roof so you
Don’t feel the bullet Rain, or searing Sun.
Air is what you require; much less than Fire.
The Wind is howling now: Incinerating!
I fill the lungs of little ones, as I
Have done for you, so they as well may grow.
Ev’rything seems in vain; for no refrain.
The Wind, She cries once more: I’m suffocating
Don’t listen to the Wind; and I’ll be gone.