aeolian wind—a poet’s reflection

True courage is like a kite; a contrary wind
raises it higher.—Jean Antoine Petit-Senn
 
there must be something to be said for the wind
breathing e’er so gently on my face,
then swiftly is gone, while my feet here are pinned,
my arms open wide for her embrace.
 
is it not a song that i hear on the wind?
well its lyric lines assume their place,
that they may amend human frailties of mind—
melodies nuanced with so much grace!
 
when cavernous rocks catch the swell of the wind,
there is an orchestra in the race
that echoes the strains hanging coyly behind,
which the passing hours cannot erase.
 
o give me a face like the face of the wind;
make my touch as lissom, yet boldface,
that i may an heritage leave for the blind
grappling in the dark for healing space.
 
when time comes to die, let sleep creep, as the wind,
halting not, yet driven by no haste;
let my meditation be peaceful and kind,
that my final breath might know no waste.
 
© Copyright 2023 May 25
by Clyve A. Bowen♫