Wind, its potent powers hidden,
Never tamed; it's only ridden,
Whistling through the tree-tops tall,
Rustling leaves in latest fall.
Wind, fierce yet gentle, hard yet soft,
Blowing through the barn-top loft,
Filling barns with airy fragrance,
While making tree leaves jump and dance.
Caressing breezes barely heard,
Carrying songs of a mockingbird,
Such a velvety feel, such a delicate smell,
Brings to your senses a feeling swell!
Racing 'cross the rolling plain,
Raising dust or spitting rain,
Never pausing, on and on,
Whipping round you; then its gone!
Rushing strong and hard, it pushes!
Playful now, and weak, it touches!
Will it ever learn to know,
How hard or fast or slow to blow?
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