To the Wind,

The way you felt last night, cannot be made into words

is there anything that compares

to your touch on a summer night,

the smell of spring floating on you

during a day near winter's end?

I lay in the tall grass and watch you

moving from one side of the world

to the next

you call nature to dance in your presence 

Constantly you are reminding me 

of the importance to remain pure

when I emerge from home, an hour's work in my hair

and you blow it all away

(it is impossible to stay mad for long at this)

until your next visit

yours.