“The little reed, bending to the force of the wind, soon stood
upright again when the storm had passed over.”—Aesop
the wind, the wind,
sometimes so wicked kind!
teasing the wings of boys and girls at play.
i'll find, i'll find
the smiles i've left behind,
for i am going to have a lovely day.
the air, the air,
full of the birds' fanfare,
is calling me to soar above the trees.
up there, up there,
wind music i shall hear
and hum the newest hillsong melodies.
but leave me not behind;
for there are mountains you must help me climb.
my feet, my heart, my mind:
i'll be the coolest windsong of all time.
© Copyright 2023 June 05
by Clyve A. Bowen♫