FREE WIND

It’s cold, icy cold

The sun at its peak

A day unlike any told

Strongly the wind flies

Wiping dusty storms

Along indistinct path

Cold, icy on the skin

Itchy on the tear duct

Bamboo poles shriek

Howling bitter protest forth

In trembly submission

Corn stalks bow

Subjects to a windy king

Huddled birds swing,

Upon faint telegraph lines,

One with the wind, it seems,

Whining away cold fear.

Market place disarray

Rushing to and fro,

One hand for the wrapper

Another for the head tie,

Women in tens hurry.

One leg hold for a tray

Another for the basket

Wares most get cover

Least they follow this wind

To long sought destination

Across graying skies

Kites dip and dart in tune

In self imposed obedience

To this windy whim

Children became birds

Arms liken wings

Bodies take to flight

As fantasies looms real.

Behind glassy window

We stood in mirthful

Attention

Laughter bursting forth

To salute a free wind