Song of the Winds
Through the valley, deep and dark,
Over the plain, wide and bright,
Flying high to the clouds, as high as a lark,
Flowing into earth's crevices, black as night,
The air can travel wherever it pleases,
With deepening roar or gentle breezes.
From the north it comes,
Cold and sharp,
From the east it comes,
Wakening the day,
From the south it comes,
Caressing land's harp,
From the west it comes,
Into dreams we stray.
In the quiet touch
Of Spring rain –
In the warming caress
Of Summer’s breeze –
In the red gold shower
Of Autumn’s leaves –
In the softness
Of Winter’s snowflakes.
Where gentleness is found.
We call to the east, to the freshness of Spring.
I am Spring. I gurgle and flow with youth. Young lambs prance to my side and watch while their mothers drink. Fledgling birds scoop my droplets into their beaks, their first taste of cool refreshing water. I nurture the beginners and beginnings of life.
We call to the south, to the heat of Summer.
I am Summer. I shine brightly with high hopefulness. Laughing in the sky, the land grows warm under my gaze. The flowers blossom bright colours, the leaves expand, and the air dances. I nurture the growers and growings of life.
We call to the west, to the fruitfulness of Autumn.
I am Autumn. I rejoice in the ripened berries and abundance of good crops, ready for gathering and storing. I spread quiet mists over the radiant patchwork quilt landscape. I nurture the mature and the maturing of life.
We call to the north, to the bareness of Winter.
I am Winter, with wide skies and open landscape I expose what has been hidden. The assets laid down in the times of plenty will now sustain us. I nurture the plans and planners who appreciate the wisdom of rotation.
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Page last updated: 29th Nov 2017