A Gust of Wind

October 24, 2022

I am from the gust of wind that brushes against your arm,

making small bumps appear on the surface of your skin,

Crisp air captivates your attention to the faint drizzle 

of rain echoing as it dissipates into the concrete,

Your mind drawn to the pulsing of your heartbeat,

The breeze that wrestles the leaves which have transformed 

emitting vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows,

before fluttering to the ground,

I am from where the snow collides with the alluring lawn,

Only a thin sheet of glass defending you from the numbing chill of the atmosphere outside, 

Nestling under heavy blankets by the dimly lit fireplace, 

The scent of a home cooked meal hitting the table,

wafting through the vastly empty front hall,

to the reassuring sofas that rest upon the cushion of the wooly carpet,

Distant laughter radiating from the other room

I am from the hallways lined with portraits that lack pigment,

The hand-me-downs that are stashed deep within the closets,

Family members gathering around the circular table,

eyes wandering to the swaying blades of grass,

that brush against each other in a subtle gust of wind