The wind speaks (by Megan)

The wind speaks
It calls to me --
shows me places
the eye does not see.

Visions grip me --
take me into forgotten corners
of the earth.

Steel grey skies
stretch endlessly
across the barren expanse
of a heartsore land.

It's own howling
intertwined with a long, plaintive call
from a silhouette
in the darkness
come near me.

Dying weeds
cling desperately
to old, exposed roots
in the cracked soil.

There are countless images, sounds, and textures
it brings to me.
Yet my hands lay at my sides.
My eyes remain closed.
My ears only hear the hum of the radiator
near my side.

The wind speak.
It calls to me --
in perfect harmony
to my beating heart.