the wind it weaves its changing spells
the dust it blows from pole to pole
each hope or fear it equal quells
and finds us in our ever-changing roles –
the stunning splendor of the skies
behind the ever-shifting clouds
is waiting for us, we’d surmise
if we could focus mid the swirling crowds –
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The poem and the art are wonderful. Is the artwork yours? I also like the texture rich painting in your header. Are you a painter?
No, I’m sorry I’m not. My father was, and I love part noting like this.
Beautiful…both the poem and artwork. I plan to combine some painting and poetry over the holidays.