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Michael Anthony
Michael Anthony
Sep 06, 2025 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

Gentle Gale

I can hear birds taking to the air,
and people talking without care.
But I can no longer hear your voice.

I’m left to imagine the breeze as your heartbeat.
I've no idea where the wind ceases its journey,
but if I reach this place, maybe I'll find you there.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: San Francisco Bay Area - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Bukowski, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Haiku & Harvey Kurtzman (a visual poet, of sorts)

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Comments

Lavender

Lavender

1 month ago

Gentle Gale

Hello, Michael,

Soft and reflective.  Although no leaves are mentioned, I can hear what is referred to as psithurism - the whispering sound made by leaves as the breeze flows through.  I tend to feel closer to whomever I'm thinking about when I stop to look and listen.

This is lovely.

Thank you!

L