Banished to a windswept isle
Last night I woke overcome
By an approaching storm
Wind had taken full possession
Of the surrounding trees
Which danced with abandon
As the voices of ten thousand
Restless souls clamored
To be heard if only a proper
Means of transcription
Could be found
Near at hand
Sitting up straight
Hollow reed that I am
The wind played
All of my stops
A swirling symphony
With as many layers
As a wedding cake
Yet resistant to any
More definite form
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| Painting by Antônio Parreiras |
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