A Warm Lipped Westerly

I am madly alive today. arrayed in the bright coat of the hopeful I saunter and parade my stride. This dawning morn I wandered out wending myself upon a hunched and pensive way - then it was that the warm west wind kissed the thin ice of a low mood that had bothered my minding of it. Smiles lit up my gladding blood. Clouds scudded away blessed to be flown by the sky. I must give praise to whatever for both I and you live in the light, a radiance none can sunder The Westerlies do blow and the Spring air leaps out of its long ponderings. This boisterous day, the balmy winds are sprightly and footloose a questing question and yet undoubtedly the hoped for crowning and most paramount answer.