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literature
Art of the Wind
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Literature Text
The Wind is but an artist
Who rages about,
It's next design
Till it settles upon the leaves of Autumn,
And scatters them,
into disarrayed piles
Leaving behind,
splatters of it's chosen ink
It's beauty complete
Before the clouds of Winter,
Do bury it beneath,
Their innocent art of snow and ice
Who rages about,
It's next design
Till it settles upon the leaves of Autumn,
And scatters them,
into disarrayed piles
Leaving behind,
splatters of it's chosen ink
It's beauty complete
Before the clouds of Winter,
Do bury it beneath,
Their innocent art of snow and ice
I was observing the beauty of piles of leaves strewn by the wind the day I came up with this, for there is a kind of beauty to how they settle and after looking at them for a while my poetic mood struck when I got on the bus I was waiting for and I wrote this. However I did give it some editing to make it smoother then my original wording.
© 2011 - 2024 AqueousDoubt
Comments1
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Very nice. I can visualise it.