by your command the winds shall change

My friend Cody Gibson, one of the photographers helping with the revamp of williamfdevault.com had asked a favour of me. When I completed it, I asked her what her next wish was. She responded "make it snow". Well, how could I refuse?

by your command the winds shall change

I stand atop the ragged, jagged peaks
thousands of miles from where she stands
her hands folded in modest prayer, the air,
warm with a summer's arrogance.
and then the skies turn, not grey, but silver
as a setting for a stone, alone set
to whet the eye and I, I am a presence
as the clouds gather and the wind shifts
and her dress ruffles as if by my hands.
and the cool air blows from fabled climes
and all the times she wished for winter
come together as I fold the weather
to her command, her demand and
she opens her eyes to see faeries dancing.
white faeries, fallen from heights
that only their crystalline, gossamer wings
could spare them from death as their breath
becomes clouds as the cool turns cold
and you shiver, bold flesh now seeking warmth
as I turn my face skyward and answer your prayer.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.