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Elisabeth Hines

The Things Clear Only to Me

The Wind swirls around me,
It swirls and shoots up a tree.

It rustles the leaves,
And over the Dryad weaves.

The wind I can see,
And things clear only to me!

Up a branch the Dryad prances,
And with the wind she dances!

Floating, the wind goes,
Up to the roof, and slows.

To the horse weathervane,
And there it ruffles his mane.

Then down I see him turn,
Not a horse, but flying unicorn!

[...] Read more

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