Child of the Wind, Part One

I am a child of the Wind,

south of the Windy City,

south of Chi-town, Chicago,

in the 'burbs.

**

The wind was always blowing.

Cold winter blasts,

freezing

faces and

noses.

We walked to school, almost a mile,

bundled with scarves wrapped around

our faces, only our eyes peeking out,

flannel-lined pants under our skirts,

protecting our knees from frostbite.

**

In the spring, the wind blew.

The wind, it was always in our faces,

fighting, pushing back, and

slowing our footsteps.

Summer came with tornadoes,

huge thunderheads and ear splitting thunder

followed by muggy, humid, hot days – so hot.

We were then deserted.

Yes, then, the breeze stopped.

Just when we needed it to

cool us,

the Wind rested,

leaving us

sweating, breathless, thirsty.

This poem is about the wind where I grew up. I like gentle breezes. ❣️

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