Wasn’t it a cold morning
The wind between the tress
Its fingers pulling at the heart
Knowing time was waiting behind
Not so far away doors
What seeds were planted there
Alive with natures unspoken needs
Where quiet stilled the storm
Of what had come into the light
Are whirlwinds the prairie’s fate
Lesser than the shadows cast
By sunset winds into their heart
Imagination blooms and sets
Behind the jealous moon she waits
For all the words unwritten
What novels love has bled to ink
Feelings cast before the turning
Hewn of wooden spokes to circle
Longing for the road to bend
Into another soul filled dream