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
By Colin Rennie
This poem was Highly Commended in the 2013 Poems Please Me Prize competition
Open a slideshow by The Artists’ Quarter of all the illustrations created for this particular poem. Wind.