East Wind blows swiftly.
It flies sure, as Eagle flies,
Pulling Sun aloft.

Gray, low-hanging Cloud
Does not obscure bright blue Sky,
Lit by hidden Sun

Unceasing Wind blows,
Bends strong Oak, flushes bobcat.
We know its power.

This Hill does not yield,
And gives purchase to all things
Unwilling to fly.

11/18/1996

Posted on 12/18/2001
Copyright © 2025 Ronald A Pavellas