Zephyr

Gail force leaves signatures across the dunes of deserts.
Even choppy seas are signed in whipped up foam & spurts.

The breeze is ever on show; all we need do is look.
Read outside most days; it’ll turn pages in your book.

If you can but stretch, look up, treetops argue with wind.
Their debates knock tree crowns off; but mostly they just bend.

The vents of blowhard storms are known to take out power.
Yet, if the time is right, night blows a bloom to flower.

Drafts are coming for your hair & whip your clothes around.
Trash twists in spouts & often leaves money on the ground.