Gentle the Air
When crisp Anemoi swerve in my mind
and gently rouse, oh ‘pon the fair moonlight,
I raise my cheeks to taste the dew, refined
through quivers of the ever- threading night.
And copper-like, my senses, mildly clothed
with fibrils circling traces on warm flesh;
this zephyr cool, guiding south’s haze evoked
by luster held by Euros rain, afresh.
And dusk will print windchimes' echo 'fore dawn
while starlit harbingers will bid me still.
My breath will feed the hours with time reborn
as tender wafts on misty fleet claim goodwill.
That I, a child of air, shall testify
as witness to rare music of billows’ sigh.
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Shadow Hamilton's Gods Of Winds Contest
* Anemoi-- Gods of four directional winds
* Notos--God of south winds ushering summer and rain
12/26/2014
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2014
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