The wind  brought the dead leaves of a new autumn
And duly rattled our windows, in gaps of their hinges
Through which eerie old ghosts shriek at midnights.

 In the bare hills the wind stayed still in sunny shrubs
But the ancient caves echoed with the manacled wind
Of history, within walls that bore many marks of men
Who had brought their wind  from the parched plains.

 Migratory birds brought their wind from the far lands
A sticky wind that slowly settled on our drying puddles
As they made themselves comfortable in  new homes .

An old tree ,failing to sprout leaves, pretended to sway
To the wind as if it still tickled  funny bones in the day
And made scary whoosh sounds in its leaves at nights.


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