ODE TO THE WIND
Oh, wind, you can not be seen,
But how we feel and hear you presence!
The sound of the wind is like white light,
Shimmering, crisp, rushing air, through bushes,
Rebounding off buildings, stirring up dust.
Its icy fingers mystically touch my skin,
Passing magically though my clothing,
Shimmering down my back, rushing up my nostrils,
Jet streaming airs, clean and clear,
Where do you come from wind? Where do you go? How do you change from stagnant doldrums?
Into a tree plucking hurricane?
Or a house crunching Tornado?
Are you blown from the gasping lungs of a Deity?
Or merely the change of atmospheric air pressure?
In your care dwells all my hopes and dreams.
How you blow me away! Oh, Wind!