Winsome winds call, soft and musical
Idly plucking petals from trembling trees
No branch untouched, in their gentle plunder
Soft tears falling and colours mingling
Oceans of perfume, heaving and breathing
Marking the hours of the fragrant season
Echoing requiems to the fading winter
Murmuring birds rustle amongst the leaves
On the other side of twilight, night awaits
Sable feathers folding over fragile beauty
Night descends in waves of whispers
In the space between shadows and light
Winsome winds call, soft and musical

© Ann Bagnall

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