Wind Song Poem by Alexander Beebe

The wind song screams her furry
when the ripened sky gives leave.
She blows; she burps; she breaks the branches
sending flocks to distant seas.

No face is shown but what she takes
from tattered broken crumbs below.
Her mask is worn as if to harken
paths ahead-her voice it grows.

What humble birth she often gives
a gentle whisper from her lips.
Caressing all who meet her favor
she’ll sponge the sweat and cool the labor.

But ask the benign sea what she
fears from breath so sweet.
For she hides the skin of battered
ships and souls of men with
watered feet.

She’ll fan the flame of inferno’s tongue.
She’ll spread its wrath and watch it run.
And then to taunt, a kiss she’ll blow, on wanted
flame which chills the glow.

Oh what song she sings when tempered,
as if conducted orchestra at play. The sounds
of earth are brought together, the crashing seas,
the fields of hay.

But when her mood turns bored and lonely
pray for those with whom she plays. The wind song
that she loves to sing.. at times it’s sweet…at times it stings.