Marge's poems

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Windy Day on Balcony of 510

 Marge Siebert

Will it stop?

     This raging wind

          Relentlessly insistent on entering and

             Changing the decor?

                 Carelessly flinging palm branches to earth.

          Sweeping poolside—emptying chairs of people.

               Combing the sea with white capped streaks.

                     Defying the birds to complete their daily rounds

                         Causing them to hide as if to protect their song.

Will it stop?

     Clouds run quickly by as if chased by as intruder,

         Leaving streams of white, flagging a trail.

             Petals of flowers fly as if sent by rockets

                 Blasted from each bloom.

Still the wind blows

     Not content with movement only

        It sings and drones and whistles as it passes by.