The Wind Can't Run

Lethargy in the wind

an empty current,

a lazy river of air,

like it's tired of blowing,

it wants to run thru the field

pull grass westward

in a big whooshing movement

sending seeds spiraling upward and out,

but there's a wall around the field

with a sign saying keep out,

no one can play here,

especially you, the wind,

so it curls back on itself.


Done are the days

of riding bikes till dark,

ding-dong dash

and cigars in the park.

Gone are the ways

of carefree afternoons,

Now it's "careful, don't say the wrong thing,

You'll disclose the wrong data,

that information is proprietary,

it's not theirs,

it's ours."


The general mood of life is

keep it lite,

but stay in tune,

don't let them catch you slipping

off your guard,

even if they overstep,

don't act rude.

They say that I should submit

please the customer (the master)

bow your head to the lion

in the circus ring of business,

the clowns in professional attire.

But I'd rather submit

my letter of resignation

I've gone to pursue my true calling

as a shepherd

tending to my flock,

where the wind

can run a marathon

around the mountains

in a moment.

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