The Wind

Keep the reins on your soul as the gentle wind blows.
Hold on to your hats, as the wind shears through the plats.

It comes........it turns, never beckons or learns.......
Hang on to your shirt for what the tailor had served

It sweeps this land of rough sand and soil,
Precarious toils… of man's sweat and broil

There is no rule or word of truth......
Arduous tasks of fields churned and chewed….
No man, beast or fool that cannot be ruled

We see it no less than the air on the moor,
Lest it summons a rage, and calls out the rain.

It cannot be caged,
Like a bird or a mule, as  it cries like a ghoul.

Howling it be....as it breaks down the trees.
Then behold.....a whisper I hear.....as it wisps past my ear.

All playful it seems from a gentle breeze; whistling a tune from the wood and the seas…
Windmills creak as love birds sing.

A flick of a leaf as an insect flees.
Then all is still as the land bows and kneels

God at it's heel which devours, even man at the wheel.
So let the simple weed flourish all scattered and nourished
Pray for the winds to replenish our sins

Written By George