by C. Elizabeth Grey

Created on: February 16, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

There has often been a day

on which I watched the wind at play

On which I saw her tease the leaves

of roses and of mighty trees

O Wind how hast though grown through time

How often has a poignant rhyme

Resounded in they powerful voice

And commanded perfect noise?

How many faces hast thou seen?

A little girl, an ancient queen

To brush upon the cheek of all

To penetrate the mountain call

How often hast thou met the sands

Or passed above the green grasslands?

How many beasts have seen thee move

Or playing with all the clouds above

And every time I feel thy touch

Always rough, but ever such

The glory as thou must have watched,

the tree in which thy hair has caught

O glorious Wind repeat thy tales

and whistle in my ear through gales;

For deep among the rocks and trees

I hear the stories that thou leaves.

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