The Wind Has Spoken
The wind has spoken, and it says
that night will come within the hour;
its cloak will fold the end of days
back on itself, as though a flower
and send to sleep the weary world
with whispered words smoothed by its breeze
‘til morning’s yawn brings dawn unfurled
to paint a smile on next day’s frieze.
The wind has spoken; hear its song
resound within each fleeting thought
and guide through dreams and all along
each ventured wish your yearning bought
with moments earned from searching through
the trials of living on this earth
when minutes crawl and sully you
with taunts of undeserving worth.
The wind has spoken: it redeems
the palsied hours you spent in toil
by giving you, through sleep, sweet dreams
to start each day refreshed, unspoilt.