As the Wind Rises

Seven decades years gone--
Fire from Hawaiian skies.
Gray stillness here, now.

How do they hang on,
These desiccated brown leaves
As the wind rises?

Particles of white
Fly aimlessly up the road
Powered by the wind.


Suspended in air
Ice hangs above the water
Which rushes unspent.


St. Francis watches--
The patron of lost items
Lost his flower flock.


Wind is all around--
Gentle tugs at pine branches;
Echoes in the woods.


Larger flakes falling
Hit the road and disappear
Without a whisper.

Unknown machine stands
Frozen in rusted stillness;
Now a brown monster.