Wind

"Come fly with me"

The spring wind breathes

"We'll fly, my love"

Sigh trembling leaves

The tree she holds her children close

"You should not trust the wind"

The summer wind loops and dives

Enraptured leaves applaud

But still the tree will not relent

"You cannot trust the wind"

The inward-turning autumn tree

Lets slip her children's hands

The swift wind plucks the blushing leaves

They swirl and swoop and dance

But wind soon leaves and grieving leaves

Slowly turn to dust

The winter wind returns once more

To gild their bones with frost.