The wind here blows about my space
To sally forth and win the race
Twixt pollen bourne upon its breath
Or seeds escaping seasons death
Lest they should fall on fallow ground
Or humble niche there to be found.
The wind will winnow whence it blows
As far and wide its purpose grows
Winds cannot cease or go to sleep
There’s destiny that they need keep.
Claire V. Bogdanos 