Wind

Crispy wind Beating against the panes: Flying as a monster Over huts, streets and lanes; It beats Against faces turning beads, Of small eyes, And lifts oiled hair as threads; Crispy wind Crackles amidst leafy boughs; A mature tide It moves with highs and lows; Over hilltops It scribbles forms with clouds; Slipping down Verdant slopes with sounds. Crispy wind Thin and thick, hot and cold; Drags itself Hollow shroud weak and bold; Weaving pleats Rolls itself to enhance might; Intoxicating flavor A silent flame that melts at a height.