How fortunate am I
to be here, alive
To greet yet another
night fall.
Catching my own breath.
It reminds me of the Maestral
that enters through
windows gap,
then retreats
Like a quiet thief
who discovers nothing
worth stealing
I don’t know why the wind
returns, time and again.
If I were him I would
breeze along
airless dwellings,
sweep each room and leave
a lasting imprint of summer love.
Like a green meadow where
we made a soft bed in the grass
under a blue sky.
Imagining the world
as gentle rain mist
in birthing morning
waiting for sunrise.
(C) Copyright Dinka Bednjacic
Dinka Bednjacic 