The wind rushes by
With an unseen push
Of an untouched sound
In the dark December sky
The trees speak to me
In the cold raking air
Branches outstretched
Like fingers through hair
Yet I do not understand
What it is they try to say
But I find littered leaves
Evidence, found in day
The wind yet pushes by
A pressure on the soul
To whisper long lost secrets
Trapped in a currents pull
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 3:29 AM UTC
The wind rushes by
With an unseen push
Of an untouched sound
In the dark December sky
The trees speak to me
In the cold raking air
Branches outstretched
Like fingers through hair
Yet I do not understand
What it is they try to say
But I find littered leaves
Evidence, found in day
The wind yet pushes by
A pressure on the soul
To whisper long lost secrets
Trapped in a currents pull
