Ariel

I'm Ariel, a wispy sprite
I ply my trade by day and night.
My job's to animate the air,
and grant each wind its special flair.

I speed through skies both far and near
alarming clouds which seem to fear
the swirling power my presence brings,
the turbulence upon my wings.

I've come to know each gust and breeze,
those which warm, and those which freeze.
I count these Anemoi my kin
and wear them like a second skin.

Down towering mountain sides I flow
from gelid top to slushy toe,
mitigating chill despair,
warming up the icy air.

The Rockies know me as Chinook,
bare stone reveals the path I took.
My warming currents eat the snow
cheering hearts and souls below.

They call me Foehn in Alpine climes.
I've played the same trick many times.
Melting thick congealed snowdrifts,
affording locals welcome gifts.

Elsewhere, another story's told,
I whistle through so fast, so cold.
Named Mistral in the south of France
I make the leaves and litter dance.

On Asian shores I seek landfall;
relentless rain, with storm and squall.
Sea tides affected by the moon
contribute to my fierce Monsoon.

Sciroccos plague Calabria,
Apulia and Catania.
They bluster north from desert lands
discharging rain and blood red sands.

In sub-Saharan Niger I
create a wind flow warm and dry
relieving dense humidity.
Harmattan's my identity.

When I am feeling quite low key
a gentle zephyr's what I'll be,
stirring ripples on a pond
wafting with my windy wand.

But twisters are what I love best
laying waste to the Midwest.
Spiralling and spinning round,
sucking tractors from the ground.

Ripping roofs from shanty shacks,
turning wagons on their backs.
Tornados always make my day,
that's when I venture out to play.

Each wind I treat as special, since
they all are Kings, I am their Prince.
I know the world depends on me
infusing them with energy.

Next time you shelter from a gale
and hear my essence whine and wail,
remember in that hurricane
my airy spirit thrives again.