The Restless Wind

None knows when the wind will blow Toward which direction, - fair protection or foul destruction Ushering the dove or an owl, no premonition Every step in life is toward a cake or a knife Very seldom both together and rife Wherever there is pressure on the equator I am warm and then hot Gather upward vigour in full rigour, higher and higher You are at poles, bulky and cold Acquire rush and perceptibly occurs the brush Out of the crush the storm arose disintegrating the rose You are quenched, no more clenched, Balance brought back begin to be bored The trigger is never much behind for eternally restless is wind Now at high and then low Sometime you harvest sometime sow There life goes off, here they glow Wind moves on to and fro From your poles to my equator The rhyme creator Also the terminator ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- March 22, 2016