I Love The Wind Blowing Poem by Mark Heathcote

I love the wind blowing through the pines.
And kicking -over those pine needles.
When the trees dance like well-heeled ladies
The one who was about to skip and turn her head.
I love the wind blowing over winter meadows.
At first gold and later a shimmering silver
I love the wind blowing on crystal lakes of water.
That has gathered in the mountains
That has witnessed the white sheen of snow
I love the wind blowing in the heather.
And the garden lavender or clean white rose
That's just about to lose itself in its throws
I love the wind however invisible it is.
And even if she cares or doesn't care for me.
I love the wind that swings through my gate.
And dances on a nearby mountainside
And switchblades my head when her red hair
It enflames my mind watching it dance side to side.
I love the wind in the chimney and the timber stove.
When the flames are about to die but light up again
Even if it's only there to say goodbye.
And tell me another unfavourable white lie.
I love the wind when it makes my eyes cry.
Because at least I'm alive and I can feel its love.
And I can feel its love when it goes by.
Because my eyes, smoke or not, are still known to cry.