The wind whistling, through the trees,
Your face tingling, in the sun beams,
The glimmer of raindrops, on wildflowers,
Beautiful clouds, filling the empty hours,
Grains of sand, trickling down,
to the bottom of the glass,
The scratch of the lighter, as you light your smoke,
and prepare to pass,
The longing desire, for the next inhale,
Keep the lighter ready, if the joint is stale,
Simple pleasures, fulfilling empty desire,
Twinkling eyes, gaze at the fire,
The weight has lifted,
it’s never been so light,
Another deep breath,
watch the joint glow bright,
The air has never, smelled so sweet,
This pine forest, is your new retreat,
Steady yourself, at the base of a tree,
For the first time, you are free.
"Grains of sand trickling down, to the bottom of the glass" the "glass" is an hourglass referencing to time which is mentioned more than one in this poem. It is a play on how we all are so worried about time and it going by too fast or too slow, but with one cloudy inhale we can stop worrying about it all together, and truly appreciate the little things. Little things like the sound of wind, the smell of trees, the glimmer of raindrops on flower petals.