The Wind

The wind,

Such a simple term,

That holds so much power.

It rustles the leaves on the trees,

And flaps the flag back and forth on the poll.

The wind, 

It blows against my face as a walk through the woods,

Alone,

Solo,

Just nature and I.

It howls in my ears like a lone wolf as I move along.

Every now and then I mistaken its sounds for creature in the bushes.

Frightened but free.

Just the wind and I.