Who am I

Maybe the gentle breeze, a zephyr, carrying the smell of wood smoke
On a winter'��s morn. The whisper of tyres on a distant road.

Could I be the early morning sun warming your face, or the rush of melt
water tumbling down a mountain stream.

It has been said that I'��m the great blue sky echoing with the greeting
Cries of aerial hunters, which gladden your ears, bringing a smile to
Your lips and lights to your eyes.

Perhaps that distant, indistinct figure who raises a friendly hand as we,
Ploughing our lonely furrow, pass like ships at sea.

That little taste of red, enjoyed while being fascinated by the mesmeric
Dancing flames of a log fire, in a Grande Maison. Ah, "��La belle..."��

I may not be any of these things but if I can join you in a conspiratorial
Feeling of oneness, tranquility and exhilaration, this is who I would be.