ZEPHYR


  Soft as a gentle kiss, a touch on the skin of a
  Memory in the wind,

  A soft breeze, a West wind blowing through 
  The trees, across the sea.

  Travels' through the years', not a face does It 
  Wear as it whispers,

  It can only be seen with eyes that dream, soft 
  As it speaks.

  It changes tides, moves past and around what 
  In nature exists,

  Night and day, It will go from here and there, 
  Place to place.

  It Is the Zephyr, has been since before the 
  Time of man,

  Energy without form, created by God In heaven, 
  When and how long ago.

  For It, no beginning, no ending as It howls' 
  Through time, not seen but why,

  Powerful, as It Is with no body or soul, why does 
  It know just where to go.

                             Keith Garrett