The wind Blows We take No note at first Until its crescendo Alarms us And soon The roar Will have us reeling And Engaged in wonder Then Almost without Perception It passes and silence Overwhelms our senses We are left Bewitched Numb And in awe We know little Are prepared for less Green mountains Have no meaning Roaring rivers Frighten us May cause stress Sacred truths Diminish us Stanski October 21, 2021 ^
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Steve Haarman 