He whispers through the weeping willows

and travels to and fro

from the crack of dawn in daylight

to the nocturnal critters who chill at his sight.

He surrounds all that is there.

Don't run or he'll stalk you, he's everywhere.

No matter how hard one tries

to escape him, one can't, he won't subside.

His feel on others varies a great range

A mood so predictable some consider strange

For he may breeze by with no worries

Yet in a moment, he's up in a fury.

He is the cause of most destructive weather

Though he can be gentle and caress a feather.

He is with all, yet he travels alone

Searching, yearning for a home

No matter where he chooses to spend his days,

his nomadic nature forbids his stay.

And some say they hear him as he moans on

in protest, singing his lamentable song.

A song that strikes his listener cold

to continue on an unwanted road.

Compelled to move to claim identity, it seems unfair

but if he stands still, he'd be called air.