The next time you wander through
the Forest,
give attention to
what makes it live.

From towering oak trunk to timid
wisps of grasses,
Wind
blows through.

Though rampant branches jut
in chaotic cacophony,
wind calms the fray:
harmonic, swaying, symphony.

To refer to Wind by her name
seems almost unfitting.
Product of the sun itself,
impossible to be un-felt,

Wind pervades.
She's a comforting breeze on a calm day,
who soothes whatever goes wrong,
forever on the mind when she's gone.

Perhaps Wind could be better called
by a name that captures all
her beautiful, ceaseless soul,
twisting through life.

My Love,
they should call the wind

Mariah