Thoughts on a Sunday

The wind takes away

the bitter seeds

planted

on an otherwise

justified day

there is a difference

in the dimension of the

changing

of the wind

a sweet breeze plants the hope for a new season

not unearthing

that which was tilled

with love

the fierce, almost howl of the talons of the wind

ripping

like a hailstorm

through the day

unearths

what was never meant to be planted

Today

I thank both the fierce winds

and the sweet breeze of my existence

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