Winds once were called by women's names
For they are like them, tempests, gales, and hurricanes,
That wreaking havoc in their wake
Fly on to devastate anew.
Though in their placid eyes, serene, as calm as dew,
No torrents rage, no oceans quake.
A false tranquility conceals their lies
That swiftly pain and desolation make
In treacherous, hurricane-wracked skies.

But you are like a summer's breeze
That in the heat of August and with gentle ease
Comes down to sweep the sun away
With coolness and in sweet suprise,
While with delightful motion and in wild surmise
The mind is lifted up to play
In sun-split majesty on heights so bold
And borne along the clouds in random ways
On serendipitous wings of gold.