the wind is filled with rumors

of war,

whistling past my window

underneath the wings

of Seahawks;

it fills the lungs

of playing children

consumed with having fun

some pay no mind

others are on the verge

with fear of being blown

away as untethered kites

drift to the sun…

the innocence of children

who play even

with rumors afoot

has much to teach

fear is real

so is ignorance

and bliss

see the wind carries

all sorts of things

how could we breathe

a breath

if we  are in

fear of

it all…