…..The Wind Invisible
The wind I cannot see I know
…By looking at a tree.
The gentle rocks or wilder waves
…Say wind is there, to me.
By ear, the wind invisible
…Is measured by a chime:
A tinkle here, tink tinkle there
…Or calling all the time.
The words I write within my verse
…I measure and I mete
By feet that gallop, feet that plod –
…For poetry has a beat.
By ear, the wind of poetry’s heard
…With other sound – the rhyme.
And like the wind invisible,
…Makes stanzas chime, chime-chime.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.
The Bard on the Hill 