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.