Mountain crests sit upon their thrones,
As kings and tyrants rule from their homes.
Dictators dictate the way of the winds,
Around and about as the winding begins.
As lieges travel the mountains on command,
They swirl about and give all they can.
They find secrets hidden in secluded caves,
Revealed to the masters from their slaves.
As seers can see them sliding up and down,
The trees can hear when they come around.
As they whistle through the branches on cue,
They come together in a melodic rendezvous.
Winding winds, where did you go today?
Were you at home when they sent you away?
The mountains control the flow of the wind