Summer Wind Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Wind, oh wind come to me
give me a symphony,
all for its pleasure
feelings of inside treasure.
Nothing though for sure
only here for a while,
with my heart to allure
in each of its style.

Wind, wind go around
into each coming hour,
shadings deep found
with every little flower.
Nothing though will stay
only verve and going,
in its hour's day play
of every day in glowing

Wind, the wind of coming
dances of to and fro,
from bloom to blooming
as the days on go.
Touching every feeling
in its day and beat,
thoughts playfully stealing
as the moments meet.