When a wind
Starts to blow,
It sets in motion
The little things –
Dry leaves,
Plastic bags,
Paper,
And clothes
Let loose,
From their precarious perch
On a flimsy drying stand,
And of course, dust and sand
Lots of that.

The wind
Does not ask
To be followed.
It simply,
Sets things in motion –
It demands
To be followed,
And even the mighty,
The seemingly strong,
Are swayed by the currents
Of a ferocious wind,
That seeks to make
Its essence known,
On whichever path
It chooses
To blow on,
Leaving in its wake
The vestige
Of an upheaval.

Image Credit: Photo by Ian Livesey on StockSnap