She Talks
Outside my window.
She talks outside my window
And filters through the trees
In a language that I understand
The language of the breeze.
In the morn before the dawn
She whispers o’er the Bay
And moves the soft leaves waving
And heralds a new day.
I watch her from my vantage point
As she sweeps the clouds away
And lifts two eagles soaring
High above the ocean spray.
All the time she whispers
A song born in the nether
She travels o’er the land and sea
And through the purple heather.
She is the sailor’s companion
And respite from the summer heat
For a refreshing change in the air
She’s impossible to beat.
Her metaphors are magic
As she floats freely through the air
She washes away uncertainties
And leaves without a care.
She comes each day and, at night,
She gently fades until
The dawn comes softly stealing
She rarely will lay still.
© David Rudder
2023
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