Yonder Breeze

• Laura Benney, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2017

Eyelids droop, I float on yonder breeze
And wonder, half, what say the whispers
Called forth so tenderly from the elms.
Upon my legs, a dappled kiss, warm;
upon my face, pooling shadows, cool.
The picture creased by a furrowed brow.
Such lines called forth by the mantles face,
the father’s warning never silent:
Looming, omnipresent, everywhere.
The wise trees' whispers, guttural screams,
as they cry to the wind their warning.
In vain, of course, such a wind knows all.
Shadows lurk, fade. Sunlight glows, grows dark.
But floating on the whispering wind,
wondering? The first, the last and me.