It casts the falling leaves in turmoil
It tells a tale, a mere whisper
From whence it came:
That which is the past, yet ever present.
Sweeping down, it swirls,
Enveloping the beating Wings;
Now crying out;
Tearing at the flailing limbs…
Flee! the billowing trees do scream;
The world is but a blur…;
Flee! wail the shower of leaves;
The light is fading…
It stopped. I look around – all is silent.
All but the echo of The Wind.
~ Jordan Strobach-Morris, 18.08.2014