Feelin' a Bit Poetical in the Blustery Wind...

The wind tide rushes toward crinkly leaves,
Leaves clinging to spindly branches.
The breeze catches my bare toes,
Tag You're It!
Off over the picket fence,
Begging me to follow.
The tide races back,
Slate storm clouds creep overhead.
Milkweed swooshes past,
Floating autumn snowflake.
Tiny glimpse of cornflower blue sky.
Red leaf para sailing from the highest bough,
Toward the newly whitewashed wrought iron chair.
The drums' rhythm meanders through the courtyard.
Trumpets herald the school fight song,
Storm clouds still tease.
The wind tide rocks the trees,
Not only the yellow and red, but the green one.
Green one with the slender curly leaves,
Leaning against the attic's shuttered pane.
Ivy vines hug tight the wood,
They mock the swaying monkey grass.
Grass as tall as me.
A single chirp of warning.
Rain is near.