Spring Wind, a poem

Spring wind slips

Past windows;

Opening memories,

Closing shed doors.


I lie in the dark

Trying to fall asleep,

Trying to follow wind’s coming

And going.


The moment is slow,

Like a sloth’s crawl.

Monotony lulls into unawareness.

Life is fast,

This terrestrial spinning.

Change forces acknowledgment,

I am not young.


I am part

of the slow and fast,

Bound by the rules

Of this flowing time.

The thought comes

Like the wind,

Opening and shutting,

Bringing both stillness and