Endless she blows
Through tough rhizomes of marram grass,
Moving sand, making dunes,
Bringing storm clouds or sun,
She’s mistress of the skies.
Sometimes a temperamental adolescent,
She rattles windows, slams doors.
Sometimes an agile animal, she spins
Invisible nose over tail.
In her world she speaks her own language,
Rolling sounds, inventing strange songs.
No one really knows her
Yet she’s a stranger to no household,
Lifting awnings, skirts and parasols,
Rippling pools and swelling sails.
The Greeks called her Zephyrus
But surely she’s a woman –
Capricious, compassionate, creative,
Cleansing, sometimes invasive,
She’s the artist of dawn and dusk,
In her sweetest mood, soft of touch,
Gentle of spirit, mysterious forever.