Windswept Mountain, windswept plain,
A lovely bush is growing there.
Green as the surroundings, berries of red
As fall do its leaves carry away.


Scraggledy bush with berries of red,
There on the windswept slope.
Wavering, shaking about,
As the wind does knock it about.


Just like life, that windswept bush,
Like the roads we travel over,
Windswept days, windswept hopes,
As we travel the highway of life.


By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)



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