In tuneful rhetoric
as I watch the
changing wind
I speak to the north,
south, east and west
and follow the path
the direction leads me
Over the scarlet
crimson mountains,
the burnt orange
tree poses and sun
glaring stirs that
wallow in the breeze
The summer ends
flatly
We stretched it
out forever and
ever until it
finally stopped and
the seasons grace
us poetically with
glows of sunsets and
luminous leaves,
hurricanes raining
and pushing
until we turn our
case over once
more to the
whistling wind
and the full moons
that bewilder us
into uncertainty
