The Little Breezes Blow

Little breezes blow
and poetry fills my head -

a line
another line
a gust
and i realize
i must grab a pen
and notebook.

When little breezes blow
i must be mindful -

and listen
and carefully record
what will quickly change
with the next fugue.

Prayer flags move,
leaves rustle,
and thoughts come
with increasing urgency.

To write is a release
for which i'm grateful.

When little breezes blow
i am touched
with presence
and gratitude -

may the little breezes ever grace
my universe with whispers.