At night the wind soughs
through cottonwood trees,
and over the big sloughs.
It's a soft and gentle breeze.

The night is humid and warm
but the breeze is cool.
I lay my head upon your arm
and watch my hair fall in a pool.

But suddenly, the breeze stops
and I'm warned of an incoming storm.
You pause, and wide awake, eavesdrop
on the chanting of my charm.

The wind picks up again,
goes sursurrusing on the boughs,
bringing in the scent of rain.
The storm is coming anyhow.

My charm refused to work,
it must've been your gaze
that distracted me, that quirk
you have that put me in a daze.

But somehow I don't care,
and lay back down beside you.
The storm will clear the air
and wash away the dew.

My magick's gone astray,
you've taken all my charm.
The night has gone all grey,
but you wrap me in your arms.

The storms may come and go,
but through any kind of weather,
along with the ebb and flow
of our love, we'll stay together.