Tenacious

I seek you in the wind,

that gallop through mud and sad,

And ride upon the weary souls,

that frequent my hinterlands.



I seek you in the rustle,

that makes touch-me-nots curl,

That waltz across the still waters

of coy delight, in many a ripple.



I feel you whimsical upon the hair,

In rattle of the windowsill,

I seek for the sound of drought,

Through crumbling walls, a struggle.



I seek for you to fly me home,

On your freedom’s back, in contentment

to hear the silence these winds have blown,

Eroding turpitude and plowing slow.




3:53 p.m.