Like Flowers in the Wind - 07/01/10

Silent,
still,
restless
in the early afternoon sunlight
that shines through the blue veil
with undying persistence,
light and dark.
A wind picks up, just slightly,
and pedals brush
light pink
against each other,
gentle
at first, then
closer and strong, then
rougher as the wind grows the same.
A bit heavier in the wind,
leaves meet leaves,
meet stems;
as pedals do,
coarse meetings,
wherever they can meet.
Stronger still,
the wind
coils
stems around stems,
blowing so hard
roots are exposed.
And then the hurricane,
winds so fast,
almost too fast,
flowers ripped from the
soft, fluffy earth
of the pillows and blankets
and into the air,

floating,
floating,
floating

on an ecstatic gust
in the soft blue sunlight
of your bedroom.