The wind pursued me gently and finally I had to stop to listen to its cry’s as it pushed my skirt to one side. It’s cry was filled with the song and calls of birds. The sweet smell of flowers drifted wearily around, like a boat man floating on the sea, exosted from rowing his boat. Most of the flowers dressed up in the brightest of colours, and all the trees swayed eagerly in the direction of the wind, listening to his lovely cry. The Bougainvilleas, Temple tree Flowers and the exora even got detached from their stem in their excitement to listen to the winds whistling tune. The winds song was well practiced. He had sung it over valleys and rivers, snow covered mountains and to swans on the calm lake. And over fields of poppy and lavender.
Freyja's Musings 