Sonnet 64, I Hear The Wind Is Talking Poem by Peter S. Quinn

I hear the wind is talking now so brief,
Rattling the leafless trees of winter's past;
Encompassing my summers lost and grief,
For upon my fate's in alteration trust.
The unknown who's with a wandering mark,
Is shaking the branches and giving a breeze;
I'll stop and listen until it again will arc,
And be there still at the top of the trees.
The moods of a spring are coming here in,
Rendering an eloquent inspiring force;
Melting down the whitening frost thin,
At due time as greenery runs its course.
The summer will come with colours so true,
And so will the blooming of love within you.


(This is also #2 from my musical, Lyrics.
The songs are available at my site at SibeliusMusic)