In The Spirit Of The Wind Poem by Jason Summers

In the spirit of the wind, wild and roaming free,
Touching places even our eyes can't see.
On a journey with no destination
Blowing swiflty for a child's imagination.
To play in the wind like the clouds in the sky
Laughing, dancing with each tree it passes by.
Sometimes it can move slightly, with the warmest touch,
Other times it can be cold and rough.
As a Summers breeze it can touch the Dakota plains on a visionary quest
Or it can glide as high as the Sierra peaks and ice cold crests.
But the Shasta wind blows like an eagle in flight
Calm and beautiful, fast and fierce, and spirited by night.

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