By Annette Marie Hyder
The breeze runs its fingers through the trees
like a lover’s touch through tangled hair,
whispers secrets to the leaves
that I can’t help but overhear.
By the water of the lake I wait —
the fish beneath the satin sheets of water
can hear the beating of my heart
as can the frogs and birds, the foxes and the deer
that nibble at the shoots along the shore.
On nights like this longing is a kite
pulled by the string of our desire.
I close my eyes and lean into the wind.