Cool winds blow in and through and around the eaves,
and increase in intensity as oaken boards moan with delight.
Such winds rustle more than leaves,
pressing against hearts and minds;
the beginnings of “something.”
In the fields of a morning sunrise he stands,
eyes to the heavens as God paints the magic of a new day of hope,
and he then casts his heart to the winds to be flown about,
and to land where it will,
for love he does not seek by design.
His love mounts the prevailing winds of chance,
and shifts back and forth flitting between the fates
as the sun rises higher yet and stirs the energies and passions,
of all the myriad possibilities that exist.
Love blown to corners unknown,
and to places unseen by his eyes.
The prevailing winds blow crisp on this approaching night,
where the lights of love-sick fireflies dance on these cool wisps as one.
Moonstruck eyes cast skyward this moment too,
as one so beautiful casts her love to the winds as did he.
She does not seek love in the places all would look,
but casts her lot as he with the winds of fate and chance,
and with a divine intervention that pulls two such travelers of the hearts
in directions that may match over time.
There is a magic in winds such as these,
where chance and fate and divine intervention meet,
and a chemistry of chaos reigns over love
as two await their turns in the energies
and passions of the wind.