The Winds

They glide in whenever they desire,
They thrive as you go higher and higher,
These bustling spirits scud in and out,
Budging and drifting is what they’re all about,

Changing direction anytime and anywhere,
They swirl and flux through the air,
Like a deficient decision made,
Impotent to choose the right way,

These spirits haul in a bleak day,
Frosty and frigid they lay,
Biting the snug contented season,
Unleashing a power: shivery and beaten,

They appear as the season begins,
The winds of grace always win,
Blasting yet another mound of maple,
The leaves swirling under nature’s table,

The leaves rustle to the arrival of fall,
The winds gust to its call,
Autumn has made its way,
What do the winds have to say??