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Saturday, December 12, 2015

The Wind

The wind pushed trees
in a bully's attempt
to game the playground
just the other day

They stumbled a bit
as if there
was another wind
on the ground
just behind their knees

Each tree had seen
this trick before
as trees are often
older than they say

Each year is much the same
to us on the same playground
though our roots
are rarely as sturdy
as we'd like them to be

Sometimes we fall over
not from any wind
that raises itself before us
but from falling years

Each year crashes into us
as if propelled by
an accidental push
from an unseen hand
to which was cocked a shaking fist

Hopeless standing our ground
we wish we could
fly through leafless trees
in an imagination of wind

Those leafless trees
are often the later years
in which our health
forces a rooting
to an unfamiliar place

And so we let the wind of years
though our leafless branches
accepting the constant
push from the bully of time


Barry G. Wick


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