There's always something funny about the way the wind blows,
Always able to find that certain way to tickle your nose,
It's ability to stay hidden from our naked eye,
Although it could probably be as sneaky as a white lie,
In the evening time when the pink, orange and red paint a sunset,
With the scent of grass and trees that are newly wet,
A calmness becomes your very blanket against the cold,
Butterflies, beautiful and strong, flutter by to show you what you behold,
Nothing is more majestic than a bird soaring with pride,
Unless it's an angel that kisses you good tide,
Life bursts from every bud of lavender and rose,
Strawberries in a field sends sweetness from your head to your toes,
Nighttime dusts the stars to light up your path,
The North Star is your weapon against hatred's wrath,
As you make your way back through the dark,
A light breeze dances past leaving its mark,
There's always something funny about the way the wind blows,
Always able to find that certain way to tickle your nose,
It's ability to stay hidden from our naked eye,
Although it could probably be as sneaky as a white lie.