O'Breath of Death

Be still O' breath of playful breeze
that wanders in and out my trees
Carry not your deathly chill
that cleans my trees with hurried will
I know that summer soon shall pass
but must you rush it quite so fast
For summer is my time of joy
It has been since I was a boy
I wish your breath was warmer so
you'd paint the green of growth I know
Yet, your breath gets cooler still
as outside all the life you kill
I curse you now, Oh winters breath
that plagues my joy with hurried death

Author= Douglas Q. Plew