Wind & its elements transport us in life.
All of us, really, on the edge of a knife.
Some are without rudder & some without wheel.
Some slave to their sails & the wind’s death or zeal.
Some manage to harness their swells…& some don’t.
Some quickly accept they must surf & some won’t.
Some people fight too hard, tire & drown.
Others make no effort; the firsts to go down.
Yet in blustery air, where those who know smell hope…
We use what we have, we survive & we cope.
L.B.Stowe 