The storm approaches the shore.
A spray of water hits my face.
The salty breeze lifts tendrils of hair.
Palm trees sway and bend.
The sand ripples
from the increasing wind.
Birds flee for safety.
Waves crash against the rocks.
The sky darkens to red in its anger,
raining tears across the land and sea.
When will it end?
Once the sky calms,
the sun will shine.
The birds will return.
The tantrum will be over.
Abandoned Library (by katka.havlikova)
Abandoned books.
Knowledge lost.
Potential buried.
Animals scurry past
Discarded pages
That no one will read.
The wind sighs.
RIDE WITH THE WIND
The Dead ride the night.
They ride with the wind.
The daylight is their enemy.
Lock your doors.
Cover your windows.
You might be next.
They are a select group.
They torment their victims.
They are bloodthirsty.
See you in hell.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
The brisk nip in the air,
as we trudge in the snow.
We feel an icy wind on our faces
as it pummels our bodies.
Someone else has done it.
We follow the footsteps,
a frozen trail in the snow.
ALONE IN A CEMETERY
The wind whispers.
The trees sway.
Air hisses through the leaves.
Shadows lurk between gravestones.
With long robes, they sweep toward me.
A statue looms in the distance.
A winged angel turns her cold face
and faces me.
A wicked grin curves her mouth.
Her wings take flight.
And so do I.
Postcard from Tulum by Todd Wall
Calm blue waters.
Pink sand.
Palm trees wave in the sea breeze.
A burst of wind lifts the palm trees.
From their roots, they fly.
From their anchors in the sand.
A puff of wind
and they’re gone.
I will fight.
I will fight the hunters.
I will fight to the death.
I will ride proud and free.
Man will not tame me.
I will not be ridden.
I will remain as free as the wind.
I was born free.
I will die free.
