Wind
We’re sculpted by her forces,
Her brushes paint with time,
She blows against the rocks so hard,
But makes a scene sublime,
And other times she’s gentle,
Her swaying in the trees,
To listen to her symphony,
Her notes speak through the breeze,
This scene is set before her,
A field of crops and grains,
She blows away the big dark clouds,
And clears away the rains,
And when down by the ocean,
She makes our senses flow,
That unique smell of salted air,
We smile as our cheeks glow,
She also has a cheeky side,
To lift a summer dress,
Oh wind, you’re mother nature’s voice,
I love you more, not less.
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