Summer is passing

The wind is a wave
And riding it, travel
The grey-headed clouds
Through anger and storm.

Enraged at the rain
That chases by quickly
That tramples the roads
In the hills of the wind.

I sit at my window
Embraced by my sorrow
I see as it passes
My personal summer.

It's dragged on the hillocks
Of undulant wind
And drowns in the flooding
Of seasonal rain.