The wind blows
The wind stirs
It gathers
It churns
It grows
It listens
It follows
It learns
All the patterns of the valleys
All the ridges of the hills
Whistling through the forests
And singing with the cardinals
The leaves blow astray
As the wind
Makes its way
The trees dance
The deer prance
In obedient
Disarray
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem