Windsong

[yldann]

The windsong rushes past my door,
never stopping to reflect
the path it took, now left behind...
Wild, turbulent the dance
of winter branches bare of leaves
and lonely grasses, brown and old;
but then a Moment overtakes
the wind, now breathing warm and soft,
a breeze to greet the rising sun

Comments

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

Ah, this is lovely.

[iliandriel.livejournal.com]

That is a lovely poem. I love winter too. Its only a period of sleep and rest. The wind sings a lot to us during that time.