The Wind

Always moving

Blowing, whispering, shrieking

Talking in your ear

Spirited

Perfect Moon

Moon, a perfect sphere

Shining brightly down on us

Now, it is hidden

Sightless Wonder

Wind, a sightless thing

Blowing stong over high peaks

Now, to distant lands

Long Ago Castle

Castle walls have crumbled

Moss and ivy have over-run

No more, shall the trumpet ring