Sharply Sings The Wind

That ancient soft breeze that caressed this land

She isn't soft anymore

The wind now blows with icy carving force

Tearing away the old hills

Rendering our home into glass-smooth pitted moors

We shriek into the night

Tearing our eyes from the black sky

Toward the guttering flames of our cave fires

We shivver alongside the thinning canopy of great trees

That bend and break under the weeping sky

The gods are not to blame

We cannot curse the fates

We cannot wait for the sun to warm us again

We can only sit by our cave fires

As our caves are ripped away from us

The first of many trees fall this evening

Fall not by our hands

The branches whip and stir the wind

The leaves are not our own

This greater bravado

Gives her desire and a desperation

To cleanse our lands

And sing unfettered of trees

She sings only of the freedom to howl

Free of building and mountain

She sings only of the freedom to sing

Things we have long ago forgotten

She sings until the sun grows delirious

Deaf, he turns away from his children

And leaves them to the wind they regret creating

Their cave fires out, their children cold

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hawksquaw99's picture

the depth in this piece just amazes me.... I tell you ,,, you have a way with words the so few have.... another well written poem...