He is free as the wind, that wind
Penetrated his soul,
Over the years entered his poems
To sing of fair weather and foul.
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'He is free as the wind, that wind Penetrated his soul, Over the years entered his poems To sing of fair weather and foul.' the power of an endearing much loved quote reveals fresh horizons of reading, I wonder where this will go in my mind when I take 'To sing (then remove) of fair weather and foul' to embark on a new journey...wonderful writing Daniel :)
Thanks much Terry I have an affinity for Russian poets especially in the winter, but then in spring it's an affinity for Spanish poets, in summer French and English poets, in autumn German/Austrian poets. You see I'm a seasonal reader of poetry. Is that totally bizarre or do seasons affect your reading too?
The soul of a true poet is really free like wind. I can feel that. I liked your discription.
The wind is such a mysterious force in nature. It's not so much a thing like an animal or plant, or even a lake or river. So what is it? ? And what is a poet? ? Another puzzling question.