Fairy Wind.

At early dawn
i fain expel the fairy wind,
night wind, fairy wind,
pied piper of romance.

sheath your sabre, slink shamefaced
into the morning air,
play your strange mystic flute,
sirocco of the foul foothills.

through the night you drove me
to the edge of madness,
ceaseless tormentor,
mistral of the nether regions.

pipe your magic music,
you chequered mystery,
lure the children of sprouts
into the open hillside.
then steal off like a cur.

poem by Arthur Zen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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