As long as the wind is awake, so am I

I am not able to resist this second post of the day, feeling Madeleva again. 

http://weblog.theviewfromthecore.com/2004_02/ind_003171.html

Three by Madeleva III

Poems by Sister M. Madeleva, C.S.C.

Wind Wraith

A shy ghost of a wind was out
Tiptoeing through the air
At dawn, and though I could not see
Nor hear her anywhere,
I felt her lips just brush my cheek,
Her fingers touch my hair.

(from Knights Errant)

Beech Trees

I passed a wood of beech trees yesterday
And I am shaken with its beauty yet.
Why should my breath catch and my eyes be wet
Because a hundred trees some yards away
Know simply how to dress in simple gray,
Are poised beyond the need of epithet,
And beautiful past power to forget?
I dare not think how they will look in May.

They wore illustrious yellow in the fall.
Their beauty is no thing at which they guess.
And when they put on green, and when they carry
Fans open in the sun or folded small,
I'll look through tears at ultimate loveliness;
Beeches in May, beeches in February.

(from Four Girls)

Peace by Night

The air is white and winds are crying.
I think of swans in Galway flying.

Winds are wings; snow is a rover;
Swans of Galway are flying over.

Winds are birds; snow is a feather;
Wild white swans are wind and weather.

Wings drift downward; snow is falling;
Swans are wild winds crying, calling.

Winds are white with snow but alway
Mine are white with swans from Galway.

(from Four Girls)

--The Four Last Things: Collected Poems (1959) pp. 13, 143, 153f.

See also Three by Madeleva II: Sonnets by Sister M. Madeleva, C.S.C.