when winds play
when May holiday winds play
wild in their hair
they believe they can fly
backwards and up into high forest
three phantom agents appearing
swift and silent, striking
evil, restoring good
they are nimble monkeys
strong as horses
clever as a fox
graceful birds
except for requisite moments
of sibling squabble:
“I’m Phantar! You be Tomba!”
settled by natural order: the boy,
congenial, relinquishes power
to his eldest sister
they feel the pins of cold air
pierce their hand-knit jumpers and
they know they can’t all fit
in the single golden cypress pine
sprung up out of place
on a vacant quarter acre
at the edge of town
unfenced, yet
when the wind runs with them
in oat grass paddocks
they leap to its arms
they fly
Oh, you make me want to go right back to the time when I could too.
ReplyDeleteWind is all around just now, love your take on it Jill, so original and playful.
ReplyDeleteLovely. I could feel the wind moving through the poem.
ReplyDeleteI can relate :) nice one.
ReplyDelete