The Wind

by Peter Notehelfer
Ruth Armitage rutharmitage.com

Ruth Armitage     rutharmitage.com

The wind
Sweeps the shore
Its fine grains of sand
Pile like drifting snow
Against the laths
Of cedar 

Tall grass
Bends down low
Across the pale marsh
Its blades bowed so as
To catch the echo
Of a wave

Like strings
Of an ancient violin
Taut with anticipation
Trembling at the touch
Of the skilled finger
On the fret

Until we whistle

4 Comments to “The Wind”

  1. whenever I see the lovely fiddler from Celtic Woman, I whistle

  2. very beautiful Peter… stunning imagery.

If you enjoyed the poem. please leave a comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: