how the wind blows over the river

how the wind blows over the river

quite a curious thing, isn’t it,

the way the water rolls in time

with the wind’s hushed music

that echoes

although there is only sky

and water

for it to bounce off of.

how the wind blows over the river

quite a curious thing, isn’t it,

the way the wind whispers longingly

as it streaks over the currents,

reaching in vain for its lover, the water,

screaming

a deep-throated sound

that haunts the riverbanks

forever

image of green lilac bushes with white lilac flowers standing against a bright blue sky

OverTheRainbow

VT

12 years old

More by OverTheRainbow

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  • Fiction

    By OverTheRainbow

    The West Wind

    The West Wind is a banker in a smart navy suit and a tie. His dress shoes clack on the pavement; he’s got someplace to be, always someplace to be, rushing to the sidewalk, the subway, the elevator, checking his gold Rolex watch.

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  • Poetry

    By OverTheRainbow

    the river in the woods

    is more of a creek,

    covered in yellow leaves and rotting branches 

    that staunch the flow like a bandage over blood.

    The river in the woods

    probably used to rush

    like its brothers farther north, shrieking

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