Three short poems for three troubled loves

J

When Wind, as Wind is wont to do,
Picks up his icy and knife and cuts you through,
Stand fast, my friend, stand fast and true.

E

Blood cries to blood and wine tastes of wine;
Dance into the garden and drink of the vine;
And in the summer heat would you ever be mine?

A

I feel in words most honest longing,
Happiness, content, forgiveness of wronging,
As you walk in the glow of mockingbird's songing.