Rushing, rustling, crunching, slow-soft hum
of wind. Carrying us across the forests and meadows.
Constantly changing from a gust to a breeze.
Tickling our noses to sneeze.
Warming then cooling. In a matter of moments.
All to be felt. Embraced. Entranced.
As we feel you, wind, on our face.
Blessed be are those who seek
the sounds the wind can show.
Across the vast land it blows.
Picking up what it may. Carrying our thoughts and dreams
along. Listening to our hopes and fears.
Blowing what we do not need out of here.