Warm Wind

Someone said something
about not needing a weatherman.
This wind, yesterday's wind,
blew warm across my face. Sweet
and soft I lifted and leaned in.
This wind, yesterday's wind,
asked not for a tightening of garment
but a loosening.

And pink blossoms on the trees.
I think this warmth bringing wind
may be singing to these pink blossoms.

Your pink, like no other.  
I'll put no other before you.  
The frill of your edge.  
Your softness. How soft you 
are my pink.  And your perfume! 
Oh it  has been a very long time.  
How supple your branch. 
Pink, like no other. Be mine.  

Which way the wind?
To the pink blossoms.