April: POETRY MONTH By: Anonymous I never liked storms, But I always liked wind. Flowers spreading their seeds, Boats sailing toward the shore, Kites soaring through the sky. Wind- colorless, odorless Tree branches rustling on the windows Cools a hot summer day A true element of nature. Wind- no sight, but has a sound No taste but has a feel. Wind: so mysterious yet beautiful. Untitled By Syenna Mayo Phlegmatic trees That wonder the mountains I have never seen Sweeping the waves Of what was The rivers swim with pulchritude Sensitive flowers; swift and slow The moon is yet aglow
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