As distinctive as our own voice
The wind modulations are
To whom listens carefully.
In the tall gum trees
The Southerlies whistle
A forward hung ho tattoo
As brisk as it sounds
While the Westerlies
Slowly murmur to them
Long stories of infinite oceans
The Northerlies sigh heavily
Bathing them in hot waves
Without any relief in sight
And the Easterlies whisper
The mighty ranges latest rumours
They've gathered on their ways.
Do yourself a favour
Tune in next time you find yourself
Under the arched vault of high rustling branches
To discover the songs of the wind .
Lucette C. Bailliet
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