Swagazine #4

The Wind    by Jillian Firth

 [Image by Dee Dreslough]
I sing aloud to call the wind
the very one that scatters leaves
in places I have never been
and picture dampened fingers
lifted high to seek direction
from an ancient and confiding friend

I envision that this breeze has
cooled the brow of Michelangelo
and lifted scents of sassafras
and stirred the chimes that grace
a thousand balconies and patios
as I lay reflecting on the grass

And when it comes I close my eyes
while breathing in the fragrances
of other worlds and other lives
and on its tail I think I hear
the gently cradled murmurs
of a hundred mothers' lullabies


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Image by Dee Dreslough.