Winds of change

a small story of displaced people unfamiliar to humans

I dance through the trees.

I flow among the silky breeze.

I glow into autumn, and do so with ease.


Strangers roar through the land.

They make tools bigger than a hand.

They all move together, as if this was planned.


There's fire and smoke.

To breath the air means one will choke.

So everyone else leaves, and these monsters break and poke.


I see all their things and the look in their eyes.

They know what they've done, but never cry.

I have to stop them, or at least start to try.