Tale of Goddess Wisk:

The Goddess Wisk,

has a temper

as turbulent as the sea

Full of rage

and fits of jealousy

A deity

NOT royalty

She wears,

a windblown crown

of lenticular clouds

As she rides, her

silver sidewinder

Windflower;

across the painted

salmon, Sonora skies

Her cheeks are

not blushing from

shyness

But wind-burning

with anger...

If you hear the vibrations of a bassoon,

a hailstorm is coming soon.

As the sounds of thunder rumble

before lighting strikes,

think-twice

I, entice

her last capture

is in a whirlwind of troubles—

The Wizard Edelweiss,

Wise Wisk hex him

into a majestic

couc Blanc Alpine,

whom:

wobbly, wavers, wandering

Windbreak mountainside