I am a child of the Wind,
south of the Windy City,
south of Chi-town, Chicago,
in the 'burbs.
**
The wind was always blowing.
Cold winter blasts,
freezing
faces and
noses.
We walked to school, almost a mile,
bundled with scarves wrapped around
our faces, only our eyes peeking out,
flannel-lined pants under our skirts,
protecting our knees from frostbite.
**
In the spring, the wind blew.
The wind, it was always in our faces,
fighting, pushing back, and
slowing our footsteps.
Summer came with tornadoes,
huge thunderheads and ear splitting thunder
followed by muggy, humid, hot days – so hot.
We were then deserted.
Yes, then, the breeze stopped.
Just when we needed it to
cool us,
the Wind rested,
leaving us
sweating, breathless, thirsty.
This poem is about the wind where I grew up. I like gentle breezes. ❣️
If you like this poem, please give it a heart and subscribe. I love to observe nature and create poetry from it; I also have fiction and other genres published on Vocal. Thanks for your support!
About the Creator
Andrea Corwin
🐘Wildlife 🧘♀️ 🖋️🈷️ 3rd°🥋 See nature through my eyes and photos.
Poetry, haiku, fiction, horror, life experiences. Written without A.I. © Andrea O. Corwin
bigcats4ever.bsky.social
Threads/ Instagram @andicorwin
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.