Wind is king in the autumn sky
Tossing squalls of feathers and flocks of cloud.
Round about the spire jackdaw jester soars
Settles with mock gravity on the cross iron
And peers from the dizzy height at the world below.
His raucous voice calls the pigeons from their nests
And taunts the silent demons carved in stone
But only the majestic wind replies
Singing sea songs as it blusters by
Bending trees and the river sedge
Drawing winter from its northern lair
Harnessed to the broad wings of the wintering geese.

