September 19th, 2026Local Lines

Dream of wind

We live in a house full of breezes.

We blow in with the dust and the leaves.

The grass in the yard bends down, uncut, unloved, turning brown.

A dark cloud looms, sends a gust with some dust,
blows flotsam across the floor from the door,
slams the gate, then it moves with a creak, as if it could speak.

We sit in our house full of breeze in a trance as the wind lifts a page, makes it
dance.

Then it’s gone.

Now a cloud shrouds our house in a tide of low mist with a zephyr to sing us to
sleep.

– Stephen Trethewey

Stephen is a sculptor who has been writing a little for a long time. He lives
with his partner outside of Daylesford where they are building their home.

Local Lines features poetry by locals about local and any other matters.
Please submit poems to Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com