Compass

When the north wind blows, with its edge, its bite, I think of you, wrapped in coat and scarves, framing the pale skin of your features and setting your eyes to shine with quiet calm. When the east wind blows with its sea-spray scent, bringing the clean breath of vast seas, I think of you, on a beach, in my arms, so alive that you make the setting look mundane in its comparison to your gentle smile. When the west wind blows its earthen charms, strong and rich of hill and vale, pent and unleashed to spend itself against us, I think of you, skipping across a moortop, kissing the country with light steps like a dream, shaping the dream I have of you, so beautiful in the green, green green .... green. And when the south wind stirs a beat of heart so heady and weighty, like a perfume of sensuality in its warm enveloping breath, I think of you in a passion, a charge of senses, a myriad of temperatures and colours of summer and warmer climes. I think of you as sun and heart and love, I think of you in caress and song and word, I think of you in life and joy, I think of you as past, as present and the definition of more. I think of you as mine, in every layer and meaning and gift of myself. I think of you as summer.