I owe the slowly singing wind
a melody for my ears, a soft sound
scattering the light summer-clouds
into morning mist that falls upon the ling.
I owe the playing waves in the sea
embracing my body with a solemn secret
tasting my closed dreams of weakness
from the wonder living within me.
I owe the many elms and trees in shade
where swallows twitter from straw-build shed
or the echoing sound where the owl has its bed
and heavily over the Moon complains.
I owe the air to smoothly fill my lungs
the breeze that calls the morning smile
and give the blazing heart some rest awhile
the evening care from my midnight love ones.
I owe the nightly arriving stillness
with its ripe smell of fruit
and still the touch of the wild youth
finding its way of the heart’s fulfillment.
I owe the day of beauty bound in wreathes
the drowsy ecstasy on lips return
when minds in fire still will burn
and leave the night into darkness
and to me.