It’s the season of winds
blowing from, the general
direction of the lake,
whirring and whipping the
trees, branches and leaves
in all directions.
the season of winds,
nary a cloud in the skies,
horizon to horizon-
the sun a blinding burning blaze
through its long course of day;
not a cloud to shade it,
all picked up, wind whipped from the skies.
A season of winds, the skies a high pale blue,
an arid desert waste, the clouds oases,
few and far between-
a season of winds, now a caress;
a rough tumble, a rake through
the tree leaves, that no rest know
the higher they perch on the proud trees,
a season of winds, no fog, mist or smog
in
maybe the soon to be abundant red dust,
loosened by numerous feet, drying sun-
A season of winds, dry
caresses the city
©GayUganda 26 June 2008
4 comments:
Socks! Boots! and all the extras. Now let me go read again..........
Beautiful. Just looking out my window and seeing it
GUG, I suppose you is still blushing away at the compliment...
May I add that I agree with Dusk? :)
Hmmm,
do I blush at compliments? I will strain to see... Sometimes this dark skin is not so good!
thanks Dusk, Princess. Glad you like it.
Was standing in the doorway at home, early morning, and just started writing it. Seems such a contrast to the rain of a few months ago!
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