Daniel Lee Johnson
the morning breeze speaks
in ancient secret tones
talking of winter’s demise
jesting at the joy of the day
hinting at the storm to come
it gently brushes
my long graying hair softly
caresses my cheeks
lovingly kisses my lips
indifferent to who I may be
it judges me not
it refuses to be judged
the scent on the wind
the storm to come
the time is now to awaken
the time to be ready
the storm it approaches
for certain the tempest
will arrive just
listen to the wind
and you can hear
dlj2014 (c)
