Sonnet to the Wind
Wanda Stricklin Robertson
Oh, Wind, I hear you scream outside my door.
Why is it that you hurry on your way?
Surely, you have taken this path before;
Your unyielding breath refusing to stay.
This endless travel would exhaust a man
but you press tirelessly, time and again.
Pushing to complete an ultimate plan
that has no beginning, that has no end.
Crashing waves and billows thunder your might;
Seeds are scattered and great mountains are worn.
You splinter buildings, make houses take flight,
then dance with flowers when morning is born.
Oh, Wind, you jester! You troublesome boor!
Calm yourself and get away from my door!