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The winds blow strong

Like a storm, passing by

Quickly, taking all in its path

Leaves on the trees, rustling

A low pitch whistle, their cry

Of forceful air, as they gather

In a swirling dance, rhythmic

Sending them spiraling

Into places unknown

Much like the night

After the rumbling thunder

Has long been forgotten…


©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0