When the wind blows in my face,

I see the waves dark-cresting on the tarn,

Cradling crag starkly cold embracing,

Feel the first faint dewy touch of clouds,

The gusting swirling messengers of storm.

Sometimes,

When there is no wind, I feel a wispy

Lightness velvet-lush faint-brushing on my cheek,

Embrace of stillness folding closely,

Dew-soft silence waiting for a sign,

And then the healing lightening of dawn.