Sweet Breeze

Do you know what I want to be when I grow up?

The sweet breeze.

Not the soul-chipping winter winds.

nor the violent whipping on the planes.

Rather I would be

the whisper-soft, sweet breeze;

a nickname they call me.

Sometimes she wraps you in a hug-

As she floats across the humid coastal sands.

Or maybe she tickles your nose with the scent of sap and wintergreen-

when she commands the mountains to dance.

At the helm of your boat,

she lets you know you’re alive,

by blowing your hair dry, 

dissipating the wetness into the enveloping sky.

While you kneel to the earth,

and ponder what it is you do not understand,

she caresses your ear,

tells you not to worry,

and collects your tears.

That sweet breeze…

An interconnected tease. 

Time: 7 min