I am the wind,
wanderer of land,
shaker of salt,
taster of air,
stroker of fur and feathers.

They build walls to block my path,
I moan when I bump my head,
so am forced into furrows and streets,
and slaved to move machines and turn turbines.

I wish I could have one night off
so I could sleep under the stars
and feel the fur and the feathers
stroke me.

By Colin Rennie
This poem was Highly Commended in the 2013 Poems Please Me Prize competition

Artist: Debra Whelan

Open a slideshow by The Artists’ Quarter of all the illustrations created for this particular poem. Wind.

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