Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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Walking With the Wind

I was an environmental scientist, working with large wind farm developers,
To harness wind and generate electricity, as a plum sun flees, to tell others.

I worked at helping developers comply, with all environmental regulations;
Minimizing the impact to it and populace, like storm tossed petal situations.

I conducted studies and recommended strategies, to mitigate undue harm,
For wind turbines are good for all earth, like a rouge sun keeping us warm.

Floral fulfillment filled fragrant gardens, after faceted fancies of jade spring.
With friends I found that footpath to a lake, where blue dragonfly was king.

Faraway family flitted in and out fast, with rich frequency of teal butterflies,
Whose velvet winged, feathery flights, gave fervor to the evening moonrise.

I lived in the house of ecstatic anticipation, as minutes chased hours, afeard;
And another sunny tomorrow always neared, as the lily of night disappeared.

Stars touched the somber, sage earth, when in sunset skies they embedded,
On my scarlet street of smiling seasons, of dusks in silk shadow, silhouetted.

New neighbors were always noticed, and nominated to unending friendship,
Calling noon and on nippy nights, amid jack-in-the-pulpit's evening worship.

Summer sparkled in superb starlight, as sangria nights seemed like eternity;
And birds woke a world every sunny sunrise, as rubies scattered, sky to sea.

Moon and hoot owl had staring contests, when neither one chanced to blink;
But, deeming such behavior too prideful, the stars above constantly winked.

One day, while in my beautiful garden, I heard wisteria whispers, very near,
Sharing secrets of today, tomorrow and yesterday, in the Full Fragrance Year.

I knew the silken whispers were the wind, conversing with my jaded senses,
After walking across turquoise sky, allowing pink pauses and suspense, yes!

She brought news of pink robin's song, wafting from high in a scented pine;
And of burgundy butterflies, then floating by, going in resolute, zigzag lines.

Isn't that just like ongoing, routine life, that you feel holds no more surprise,
Until a violet, sunny day of discovery, when velvet nature appears, disguised!

The wind continued to whisper whimsy, like the mystery in misty mountains;
Talking of being the magic carpet of robins, yet flustering blooms by billions.

Since that day, I am always listening, for the wind's tales of wandering June,
Especially in my garden of silver rays, when heady fumes go up to the moon.
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