thought out the storm. But today I saw
leaves and tired of the heat come alive,
in a usual daily miracle.
And the harsh caress of the wind, swirling
corners,
dancing with papers and empty bags.
I love that magic, that live without life,
That being so tied to the wind ...
Where does the fear of the storm?
Where does the fear of the inevitable? It
hear laughter disguised sighs and bursts of rain.
I do not cheat.
understand the language of the drop and the breeze.
Storm openly mocks,
of those who believe they can escape the wind
.
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