"Boreas"

The ease of breezes--
Wind combing my hair into my face.
      Tugs uplifting my jacket
      And a whuuur-eee-uur
          that screams into my ear.

You know, I really can't hear you
       over the wind.
But I won't tell you that
The fact is this:
           You complain too much.
           And you have a listening problem.
           And you fight too hard to be heard
            --when I can hear you just fine.

Can't you bask in the golden?
Wind wouldn't try so diligently to
mute you if you simply muted yourself.
He would probably sing a softer tune,
           mellow and sweet
           soft and syrupy like soda pop
           something, maybe
                  possibly
                         (hopefully)
            in three-four time.
A summer waltz
        for those who are still Spring at Heart.