Louise Ayres Garnett

From “Songs of Silence”

THE WIND is wearing moccasins,

The wind is wearing moccasins,

It slides along the desert

With stealthy feet at noon.

Upon the ditch it lightly treads,

And scarcely stirs the cottonwoods,

The nervous, listening cottonwoods,

On tiptoe in the sun.

The wind is wearing moccasins,

It runs with crouching shoulders,

Its fingers sweep the ground.

With a sigh it makes a pathway

Through the purple-flowered alfalfa,

As it whispers dreams half-mockingly

To workers in the sun.