master of the wind you carry your song on a thin line of light
the call of the night, ferry and merry with flare to wear lightly
no lust, no rust, just mussle and fuss the head and your truss
pyer and plane, just running again --- from the wind i suppose
tarry in feathery clothes a masterul pose, most presenty close
winnowing feathers of flustered impellors, struggle and gentle
host of the fence, mother of your children's defense --- intense
flighty yet fighting for more than a rite, a passage to skite --
those whom you smite
Who
will love a little sparrow who travels far and cries for rest? - Simon and Garfunkle