Chased by the wind, I see you dance.
You pirouette without a glance
to those who stand and watch you twirl.
Swiftly gliding you pass in a swirl
Racing back to your private soiree,
you bounce on tiptoes as you glide away.
Although you leave me far behind,
I’m flying too, if just in my mind.
For in my heart I, too, do soar
following you over glen and tor.
You’ve touched my soul and set it free,
Sweetly dancing thistle seed.