The Wind
By Snookie Schrader

There it blows again
through leaves and limbs piercing,
deep soul-wind blowing.
Birds and limbs and song
tumble to the ground.
Entangled, pulsating tunes
amass in vibrant heaps.

An upward thrusting gust,
whirling, intertwines leaves
as red as robinís breast,
as gold as sunblest oriole.
Like a kiteís tail,
dipping and diving,
the wind trails their colors-
bright hues dying.
Autumnal shades splatter the sky,
windblown from Octoberís rich palette.
Brilliant shades explode coloratura:
A choral coda of warbles and wind
and leaves on fire as they fall.

Copyright October 25, 2007





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