my gypsy ways

There's a feeling I get

when I hear the rustling of the trees.

As the wind rushes past me 

and through the leaf-heavy branches.

Expectation.

Waiting for the end of the cascading wind 

and the eerie silence that follows.

The silence that soothes and comforts, 

but beckons for more.

Longing.

I yearn to go

where I choose.

I want to feel the impact of others 

as I 

rush by.

Nothing to hold me back

besides

the air.