Wait Northern (The Winds Of Wise)

• Jye Cannon, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2015

I am the Southern Wind: wind of south and seas;
I hold along my heart the waves and tides of change.
I am the Western Wind: wind of west and sands;
I hold within my face the shifting strength of pain.
I am the Eastern Wind: wind of east and hills;
I hold above my heights the fiercest peaks of time.
Here, come – the North Wind blows! Expect the colder days;
With its draught and dancerly drift, the ice wind stalks behind.

We Winds await the fourth and final friend into our pack
As he flies the topmost seas to meet us where we soar,
And though our hearts are heavy still with ageless age, alack,
We stand, unfulfilled, until we once more stand as four;
For then, in our dreary states, shall we again enshroud
A world so dry and fragile in its cloudless, windless guise -
Albeit we may intimidate with gusto, gust and gut,
We are the air and breath of life: we are the Winds of Wise.