the wind that flows on invisible wings
over alien and familiar soil with anticipation
camouflaging itself in varied forms
with cool fingers like the touch of sublime snow
in the shivering moments of quilted winters
or like steam rising from a hot amber soup
in the sultry summers, beading brows in sweat
at times boisterous as ocean tides swaying trees
in rhythm to  gusts and blows of Zephyrus
or sometimes serene and tranquil as piano notes
and solitude spread over the face of night
its unpredictable moods have taken incarnate
as oxymoron chameleon of nature’s alleys
its howling cry parodying with trumpet of thunder
creates a noise that terrifies every soul
and its garrulous gossips with leaves of folliage
spin fluttering strains on orchestra of silent trees
graduated down the annal of history it was matured
but even millions of moments flowing down bridge of Time
or thousands of seconds creeped Time’s rheumatic limbs
has failed to prevent its kaleidoscopic mood swings
it at times has a crush on mustard blossoms and rose buds
that it fondles with tender soft fingers of velvet
and in an uproar of wrath withers these in full bloom
in the scorching misery of sun’s heat its moist lips
kiss away dewdrops of musky sweat from toiling brows
and carry frowning clouds on its chariot to shower elixir
to satiate the thirst of the parched earth
breezes sing lullabies to sparkling stars
and wake up the sunflowers on golden morns
its variegated moods remind me
of the altering visage of a rotating kaleidoscope…