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