The Wind

The wind is calling me,
Its siren song echoing across the sky
Catching the trees in its turbulent embrace
Sweeping down from the skies to grace the earth with a kiss
While leaves scuttle and dance down the street.

The wind is calling me,
Winding its way past the pages of time
Pausing by a viewpoint high above the evergreens
Rocky crags surrounded by stunted oak and smooth arbutus
Where the ravens soar and dance on a radiant autumn day.

The wind is calling me,
Beckoning me back to the shores of the sea
Where breakers roar and crash on the rocks
While the wind sends glistening spray skyward
And there is salt in the air.

The wind is calling me,
Sweeping aside the cold concrete of the city
Unveiling a haven where the world is wild and green
I find myself following ancient paths
With wonder and adventure around every bend.

The wind is calling me.