A gust of wind
sent down from the gods on high
made its way
down the snowy pure-clean mountains
down through deep valleys and across green fields
to the sea where it stirred the great waters
and the currents and clouds gladly followed
until it dragged crashing waves upon the distant shore
to announce its arrival
and as it flew through towns and cities
howling down the concrete canyons
and the rich man raised his collar
and the poor man searched for shelter
and you and I huddled for warmth
as we walked that crowded street
it continued its long journey
until it found the battlefields of war
and carried the billowing clouds of destruction
and the smell of death and despair
back to the heavens to let the gods know
though their winds of change blow long and hard
man stands as still as a mountain
that takes years to form anew.
Ken Owen December 2023
Van Niddy Press
