Wind

Ascending towering mountains with the greatest of ease, laughing as foliage tickles my tummy with soft, feathery leaves. Endless melodies, I have played, breezing through dangling chimes, luring enchanted fairies with an orchestra sublime. Lifting kites of brilliant colors, I choreograph the dance. Such magnificent, breathtaking moves, never given to chance. Designer of vast deserts, sculpting massive, lounging dunes. Artist of the lonely face that rises from the moon. Donning infinite perfumes; sweetest flowers; savory food, or the salt of seven seas, when in a traveling mood. Ghost writer of romantic voyages, sailors and pirates tell; beached lovers on exotic islands, my gust upon their sail. I've swooped down through lost canyons, and valleys, emerald green; lain in meadow's tall lush grass to nap in sun's warm gleam. My disposition revealed by soft whispers through the trees, or howls from the north, saddled on winter's cold, pale steed. Old as God himself, being born of his first breath. I fill the lungs of eternity, forever evading death.