In spring, the wind blew over you so fresh,
so full of hope, it seemed to be the breath
of dawn itself. In summer, warmer winds
of sun and rain aroused the sleeping life
you knew was yours to give. And in the fall,
the wind brings you the fragrance, sweet and strong,
of the fruits so gently nurtured by your hands.
Before the winter nights approach, and you
fend off the cold and cutting snows with coals
that glow in memory of fires past, lift
your face into the wind and feel the spring
again. And if it may, allow the breeze
to speak my heart in whispers soft and brush
your cheek with my most tender, filial kiss.