Wind

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

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