Windsong

“The more civilized man becomes,the more he needs and craves a great background of forest wildness, to which hemay return like a contrite prodigal from the husks of an artificial life.”

Ellen Burns Sherman

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The sound of rain on the roof. The smell of a lifetimes accumulation of pine needles as they crackle under foot. The whisper of a brook, telling secrets to the bank. The stir of the topmost leaves in a tree as the sunset promises an evening shower. The call of the wild...

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Annie’s Song (Excerpt)

You fill up my senses like a night in the forest.
Like the mountains in spring-time
like a walk in the rain
like a storm in the desert
like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

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Windsong

The wind is the whisper of our mother the earth
The wind is the hand of our father the sky
The wind watches over our struggles and pleasures
The wind is the goddess who first learned to fly

The wind is the bearer of bad and good tidings
The weaver of darkness, the bringer of dawn
The wind gives the rain, then builds us a rainbow
The wind is the singer who sang the first song

The wind is a twister of anger and warning
The wind brings the fragrance of freshly mown hay
The wind is a racer, a wild stallion running

The sweet taste of love on a slow summer’s day

The wind knows the songs of the cities and canyons
The thunder of mountains, the roar of the sea
The wind is the taker and giver of mornings
The wind is the symbol of all that is free

So welcome the wind and the wisdom she offers
Follow her summons when she calls again
In your heart and your spirit let the breezes
surround you
Lift up your voice then and sing with the wind