Carefree

I trudge through my dusty yard,
Tasting the smoky air.
The day ahead will be hard,
And life, like yard, is bare.

Wind softly carresses my face,
With soft compelling plea,
My slow steps quicken a pace.
Oh, how I want this to be.

With a joyous, laughing moan,
Wind swirls the grim earth.
By myself, yet not alone,
I run in wild mirth.

Twisting, turning, laughing, I,
Dance with the wind-swept dust.
Not caring that time goes by,
When wind cries dance, dance I must.