WINDSONG

My formless hands shape land and sea,
blooms' sweet breath I bear o'er the lea,
my fragrance sings the songs man seeks,
blithesome the unspeakable speaks.

Tales I tell of great rivers' dreams,
of forests' sorrows, silver streams,
of lost lands 'cross oceans of time
and feathered clouds in sylvan climes.

The blessing am I in your sails,
minstrel and comrade on your trails,
thro' Summer's warmth and Winter's chill
my tunes ring, e'en tho' I be still.

Roses to their Mother I bend,
butterflies and aves swiftness lend,
caresses lavish 'pon lush fields,
to my whims the lacy clock yields.

Weight of life glides o'er my lightness,
'pon graves I strew petalled brightness,
come Autumn, leaves shake from the oaks,
Earth deck with myriad red-gold cloaks.

Nights, I tell of my woes to stars,
their brittle sparkle heals my scars,
their argent lays my strength restore,
for my airs to chant evermore.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: BOREAS
Source: theredlist.com
Artist: John William Waterhouse