The air smells of nature

And I breathe in freshness, grace, and godliness

The breezes kiss me

And I know you are near

Where did the gentle breeze go?

The one that led my way

When did it become a monsoon

Which I could not stand up to?

A hurricane of epic proportions

Which I could not stand up to

And you an enigmatic mystery…

Will all things be explained?

Will love make sense someday?

I feel peace coming

The breezes are gentle once again

But like Dorothy, I am no longer in Kansas…

Janie Wassler

Image: Dasha Musohranova

Submitted by Helen Tyrrell
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