Be weary, Lord of the summer wind, <br />Lord of the heat that you blow in, <br />Away with flowers, land and trees, <br />To stay them not, least all the trees. <br />Listen to this, all that I say, <br />Our land does die, and drift away. <br />Our living born upon the wind, <br />All of ours, and those of friends. <br /> <br />So we called upon the leave-filled wind, <br />The autumn one, of which were friends. <br />This wind of cool and gentle hand, <br />Not like the wind that stole our land. <br />And the heat did melt into the leaves, <br />And turned them colors from the trees. <br />Then the leave-filled wind bore them away, <br />And upon the land, they came to stay. <br />And stayed them there, till land-hard cold, <br />And then the land, the leaves they stole. <br /> <br />And after the harsh cold wind had blown, <br />And living soil again was sown, <br />Summer's wind came again to prey, <br />Upon our lands, most every day. <br />But our living land, the leaves did save, <br />And the summer's wind did blow away, <br />Never to re-live, the seasons day. <br /> <br />The cool soft wind now blows so free, <br />Upon the land, and through the trees. <br />All through the people, and over me.<br /><br />Sandra Osborne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/summer-s-wind/
