Colors of the Wind

Colors of the Wind

Lying on my back
at the river’s edge
all manner of kites fill my view
the colors of the wind
descending in the fading light

Across the water
through the grass and trees
songs reach me
fill my senses, as I hear
nature’s colors of the wind

Red-winged blackbird
clinging to a cattail
its trill weaving
through the reeds
waving in the wind

Great blue heron sailing past
announcing its arrival
banking to land
to fish on the shore
towering in its presence

A robin calling to its mate
in a nearby tree
grass to shore their nest
grasped in its beak
the branches swaying in the breeze

Black-crowned night heron’s squawk
at the water’s edge
eyes fixed on a flash of silver below
poised to strike
in the lingering light of dusk

I hear them, still, in my dreams
reminders of songs
in all their shades
on that river’s bank, as they
fill my ears with the colors of the wind


I was inspired by a line in Jane Dougherty’s poem, Swing low, about the sound of birdsong beneath a setting sun.  That line, “Fill my ears with the colours of the wind,” took me back to the shores of the Niagara River.  (Note that my kites are far different from hers, and so, unfortunately, have no birdsong.)




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