The Wild Wind

Long and languid lay the shadows
Shaded on the shore
Golden, golden, paints the sunset
On Horizon's door.

Wispy winds whisper stories
They bring us from afar;
Hot pine trees scent the breeze
And hang it on the Evening Star

Then home, home, skips the wind
To whichever way it blows;
But where, where, oh where is home?
Only the wild wind knows.
 
by Dianna 1994