The Wind Blew West

I sit in the ledge of the window,
looking out at the trees,
how I love their sway in the wind,
a warm cup of peppermint tea
steaming in my hands.

A longing pulls through the panes
and I stare out the glass wanting
to join the wind, to fly boundless
to scatter the leaves, to caress the grasses,
to whip and twist around branches
and brambles, to gust with enthusiasm.

I sit in the ledge of a window in the
shadowed and forgotten dining room,
looking out at my father and brother
playing in nature, I long to return
to those olden days, long forgotten days
of breezy freedom and mused afternoons.