God’s Broomstick

The wind, it’s so peaceful from this bedroom view,

but the mighty oaks grimace as it passes through,

Still I’m warm and I’m safe and feel good when I see,

that everything’s touched by the wind except me.

 

A spider’s web crumbles, wild rose petals flee,

There! A dead branch has been blown off it’s tree,

But its quiet in my room and I know not to fear,

the whistles and howls from outside that I hear.

 

The wind is so strong and so practical too,

as it sweeps out the old making way for the new.

And it never stops blowing, working ever so hard,

God’s broomsticks’ relentless whilst cleaning his yard.

 

A birds nest gets caught and is out of its tree,

the eggs are all smashed the chicks never to be.

The mother is sad but it must have been meant,

why else would this awesome wind have been sent.

 

And though I sit warm at my view through the wall,

feeling smug with myself, feeling safe from it all,

The wind always looks back, just before its passed through,

to remind me, one day, I’ll be swept away too.

　

BF Summer 88.

Advertisement