The wind starts blowing.
It comes slowly
pulling the cold, northern air down with it.
At first glance, it’s only a glimmer of green,
a flickering light in the leaves,
a cool relief, drying your shirt.
You step out of the shade.
The wind keeps blowing.
It moves steady
pulling the blunt, brisk air along with it.
Red trees shake, sounding louder now
as the paper-dry sheets scratch and spark,
falling to crunch under shoes.
You seek out warm light.
Awesome gusts now
blast fast past
bare branches; leaving little behind.
Transparent forests stand silent.
Only the air whines and cracks,
whipping its way around.
You wait to start fresh.