Come sit neath the brim of my leafy green shade,

and i'll tell you of stories and colours that made.

Come listen to winds and breezes a blowing,

birds of praise all chipper and knowing.



Winds surrounding and sweeping this day,

clearing of mind remember that way.

The whoosh the rapture the call of the wild,

the soft the tender the voice of a child.

Leaves rattle and patter with glee,

charging the winds, calling to thee.



Winds… Continue