She Whispers
The ever shifting breeze.
She talks outside my window
and filters through the trees
in a language that I understand
the ever-shifting breeze.
In the morn before the dawn
she whispers o’er the Bay
and weaves around and wanders
and heralds a new day.
I watch her from my vantage point
as she sweeps the clouds away
and lifts two eagles soaring
high above the ocean spray.
All the time she whispers
a song born in the nether
she travels o’er the land and sea
and through the purple heather.
She is the sailor’s companion
and respite from summer heat
for a refreshing change in the air
she’s impossible to beat.
Her metaphors are magic
as she floats freely through the air
she washes away uncertainties
and leaves without a care.
She comes each day, and in the night
she gently fades until
the dawn comes softly stealing
she rarely will lay still.
©
David Rudder
24th April 2020
Thanks for reading.
