I am a tiny little breeze

whipped up upon the hill,

I’m gentle when I’m in the trees

and in the valley, still.

 

Blow me through a Desert,

a Canyon or a Gorge

repeatedly and over time

you’ll see my pathways forge.

 

I’ll twist and rip the very earth

you’ve built your world upon,

I’ll shade the Sun that nurtures birth

till all that’s good is gone.

 

So, if you sense me stirring

dismiss me not with ease,

for Storms are reoccurring

and will Ravage where they please.