autumn wind

The autumn wind chooses you
like pollen to the bee.
I love the weak—
for how strong they seem,
when their heart feels incomplete.
They battle back
to claim their lives—
like a mountain
beneath just one set of feet.
I often wish
I was one of them;
The silent;
The mob;
The cumbersome obsolete.
But I know I will have to wait my turn
like the beggars on the street,
who witness love
with dirty hands,
that an angry glance
will never clean.
The autumn wind chooses you—
and for a moment, you are free,
to touch with voice
and let me in,
solace and serene.

written on 07/28/2010 by: Matt Kane