The wind has been
unleashing its bag of tricks,
carting us off,
tossing...up and down,
spinning unsuspecting victims
into acrobatic moves.

One upon the other,
we are piled up
and tucked away
into patterned slots.

On no! A little redhead cries out.
I'll soon be buried
under a rustly,
copper tinted pillow.

Look at me...
says another yellow victim,
ready any moment for a free fall.

I wish somone
would tether the wind,
buzzes a strange voice,
clinging on
for dear life.