My thoughts are restless like the wind that blows
Through trees and makes their branches dance with grace.
She travels past the pond where ripples trace
Her ghostly path like footprints in the snow.
She moves the clouds as fast as water flows
And through them looks the sun upon this place,
His light so sweetly shines onto my face.
The jealous wind fights back with clouds she throws.
In awe I watch this battle in the sky
And hope that warmth will triumph over cold
As if my thought is heard, the wind subsides,
Then sun retreats with one last burst of gold
That paints the earth; I feel my spirit fly.
At last I may embrace that which my mortal arms cannot enfold.