The wandering wind, like a Cheshire

grin, cheerfully comes and goes,

sometimes bearing diamond flakes

or the sweet summer scent of a rose.

It plucks at my imagination,

and invites me along on its chase;

it flits over dense green jungle plants

and across glittering arctic wastes.

I hear it hum with a guitar’s thrum -

I again watch a lissome lass dance.

She steps to the click of her castanets

and flashes me a coquettish glance

that lures me down nostalgia's paths,

back across the miles and the years;

It gives melancholy spirits new life,

and suppresses incipient fears.

The mischievous wind, like an urchin’s

grin, has stolen gloom from the day;

with the wave of a leaf - a most welcome

thief - it swirls merrily on its way.

© Thurman P. Woodfork 8/25/2008