There comes the gypsy wind!
Gyrating through the familiar lanes,
Sniffing at the pink musk-roses shy,
Laden with spiced flavours elegant–
Of clovers, and thyme, and garlic chives.
The warmth and pleasantries–
Of apple blossoms, and jasmines,
Drift around in feisty spirits throughout the hollow,
Forming a light among the shadows deep:
Soft and mellow.
Behold the vagrant wind!
Blowing over the tree-tops tall,
And playing with the ferns in dew-wet covers;
Its clandestine meetings with the lilies,
Under the moonshine’s careful watch:
No longer a rumoured story, if at all.
Rippling through the lake in sparkling tiptoeing steps,
There comes the perfumed wind,
Sending delightful ecstatic shivers down the spines.