The wind cannot make up its mind, this day,
Which way it wants to blow.
It moves the green grasses' blades to and fro.
The blades of green sway one way
Then another,
Say hello to gale today!
The wind rushes over the blades
Like a rolling wave in the Atlantic
Or Pacific,
But, its blades
Green with dew,
Are not like an ocean of blue.
In haste, gale bends the garden tree,
Then twisting the maple just beside me.
Seasons greeting, Autumn's fury is here to stay!
Zestfully, Indian Summer isn't far away!
The wind cannot make up its mind, this day...
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