LANDAY FOR AUGUST

In the Desert

The quiet hush trips over grains of sand so slight,
But who stole desert’s breath, leaving colder the night?

At the South Pole

Icebergs groan and crack, where winds usually roam,
Who snatched the wild gusts, leaving no foam?

On a Sailboat

The sails barely billow, the sea’s gentle sigh,
Just who took the tempest, leaving only blue skies?

Sitting at an Open Window

  
Curtains hang heavily, no breeze through the room,
And, who stole the whispers, turning stories to gloom?