The Wind

From distant lands, over vast seas,
The wind travels under clouds and over trees,
And from the past it flees.

And through the woods, over the lake,
Over the beach for the wave’s sake,
It goes on without break.

Riding the current as in a dance,
Carrying on its back, leaves in a trance,
It twirls in a circle for a last glance

At the garden it passed along with the breeze,
Touching the pumpkins and playing with bees,
It provokes the flowers to bow to their knees.

Whistling childishly while peeking through a window,
Flowing and gliding wherever it desires to blow
It rejoices in cool weather, without rain or snow.

Rising and descending, arguing with gravity,
Suddenly stopping stillness in its surrounding completely,
It races and races, longing to be free.