The winds carry me,
twirling and swirling,
swishing through rooftops,
As high as you could see,
I'm a wrought starling,
Almost ready to drop,
Tired of fighting the wind,
Until a friendly gust,
comes beneath my wings.
I am a piece of paper,
perhaps a bard's symphony.
Now singing to the clouds,
the lines composed for his loverly.
I am an autumn leaf,
my friends red and yellow.
Rustling along the greens,
and the raked meadows.
Dust and raindrops I could be,
holding some faraway fragrance,
Tempting people elsewhere,
of delicacies and treats.
I am the gusty wind,
Sometimes the gentle breeze,
Climbing over rooftops,
with reckless ease-
I twist, I turn and leap and swoosh,
but, for now I am a poetess' muse
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