The willful wind whistled in the rafters.
It’s an urgent need to know what matters.
The air was still and my mood was plunging;
Then a breeze touched my face, left me smiling.
A strong updraft snatched paper from the ground;
while rolling a trash bin without a sound.
One leaf trembled within a crowded bush;
clever wind to infiltrate, an “inrush.”
Ruffling the twigs, the top, a tall tree –
The wind’s its mother, affectionate glee.