Because of the wind.

A poem.

The wind swiftly paints itself on a still pond
A shade of reflected light brightening
Contageous. It spreads like a smile on the face
Or love on a spectacular summer night
Hearts glowing with the fireflies and shooting stars.
Purified billows of white float in the sky of utter blue
Shaggy trees let their limbs flow with the wind’s gentle tug
Like the one on your shirt when she wants to kiss you
With smooth, soft lips of rosy pink
Blushing, full vigor, innocent as flower petals lighting from the orchard tree
Fields lay: ready for a checkered blanket and two bodies tumbling

Andrea Miller
9/16/10 ~6pm