South wind bends the slender stems
Of flowers bowed beneath its light caress
Scattering the perfume gathered in cool bowls
Of petals cupped around the flowers’ heart.
Wind from the west blusters and blows
Herding rain clouds straight from the sea
Barging the skeins of voyaging geese
Tossing light and shade from a changing sky.
Cold bites hard when the wind’s in the east
Dry and bitter with the arid taste of steppes
Ruffling the feathers of huddled birds
Sweeping the sky smooth as an icebound lake.
But when the winter wind roars from the icefields of the north
I hear ancient sagas in its chilly voice
Told beneath the smoky beams of halls that rotted long ago
Tossed upon the backs of glassy waves
And chanted by the sea grey clouds
Rowing the turbulent snowy sky.
Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 