Four Winds

FOUR WINDS

The South Wind said to the cherry tree:

My lovers sing on nights of glee.

With flutes and cymbals and my voice

Great symphonies, The Golden Choice.

The North Wind said to the desert palms:

My lovers sing anthems and bright psalms.

The sand I move, while warriors dance

Before the battle. Shield and lance.

The East Wind said to the pomegranate:

I'm always slow, but never late.

My lovers sing Gregorian chants,

With deep full voice. Proud, adamant.

The West Wind said to the silver yews:

My lovers sing, damp, in the morning dew.

Clasping their hands, rhythmic serenades,

The sound dispersed among the glades.

The four winds blow, moving golden sands,

Making changes, drifts...Life from our hands.

Whimsical the gusts, bringing near the far.

Or letting us get lost, alone, among the stars.