O South Wind, the Wanderer, come and rock me,
Rouse me into the rapture of new leaves.
I am the wayside bamboo tree, waiting for your breath
To tingle life into my branches.
O South Wind, the Wanderer, my dwelling is in the end of the lane.
I know your wayfaring, and the language of your footsteps.
Your least touch thrills me out of my slumber,
Your whisper gleans my secrets.
Excerpt From: Rabindranath Tagore. “The Cycle of Spring.”
When the South wind blows, in these parts where I live, a certain warmth suffuses the air, energizes the birds, enlivens the bees, and the flowers rise up to salute the sun.
What does the South wind evoke for you? What secrets does it reveal?