Perchance my thoughts tend too much toward the weather. However, since my days are spent much in contact with volatile meteorological patterns whilst musing in Poet’s Paddock, they doth influence and inspire, and so I must follow my muse.
Herewith some thoughts on wind …
The blues of winter colour weary mind
Reflecting all that’s grey amid the snow.
The weather, thus, hath not been very kind;
No wonder birds to warmer climates go.
And yet, today, a moment of respite
As gusty winds across the paddock roar,
And blast and blow and burst Ma Nature’s might
Awakening my soul that wants to soar.
With leap and bound and buck the wind we chase
Ol’ Sam and I awhirl in raucous flight.
And mud erupts, our storming legs to trace,
So in the end we are a mucky sight.
Forsooth, to me this is a happy sign —
The blues of winter purged feel I, now, fine.
See you anon in Poet’s Paddock!
Shakespeare “The Equine”
Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012