The Dance of the Wind
In valleys green and still,
A gentle breeze whispers
through the enchanting woods.
A maiden, fair and gay, frolicking on the hill,
Bare-footed, she enjoys the warmth of the earth,
without her boots.
The gale whirls round and round
through the forest in riot,
Through her the gale of energy shot high.
It blows so hard without a moment quiet,
Fanning its desire to reach the summit of the sky.
Now steadily the dance turns loud, rough and strong,
It twists and twirls, with howling, filling the sky,
Scattering everything free at times in throng,
carrying voices crisp, shrieking,
as if desperately attempting to fly.
O beautiful wind soothing my pain,
Greetings to you, as I heard you plain from the hill.
Your sigh of relief is not in vain
For the joy you breathe into me is never still.
Now you and I, reunited as One
Like the lover and his lass,
Through the friendless world we fought and won.
Together we reach a happy land after letting the
suffering pass.
by Amitakh Stanford
Good night Miss Feather and Fellow Lairites . . . tomorrow Sissy arrives . . . so, I may be a little scarce around The Lair during the month of April . . . as we'll be "going and blowing" . . . I'll post as often as I can . . . ;-)