The Wind

The wind in the old trees, Like laughter rolling free, Carries whispers far and wide, From every blooming bough outside.

It shifts the leaves with tender grace, Caresses every tired face, Tells the tales of earth and sun, Of summers passed and winters spun.

Through golden fields where shadows lie, Chasing eking, curling high, With silent vigor, twisting low, The wind brings stories, truths to know.

Listen, child, to what it gives, In every breath, the world still lives, For in this fleeting, gentle gale, Resides the heart and spirit’s sail.

• Edward Thomas