WindWood

On the mountain there are songs on the wind
big gale or soft breeze, there are stories out there.
In the daytime rustling of leaves in warm sun,
in the sweeping howling gale, the biting frost wind,
the secret life in the earth has songs.
In the nighttime sounding of voices in dark air
secrets are told, old knowledge comes,
words of encouragement, ancient songs spinning
our name on the stars, rousing us in the long
needles of ancient pine and juniper.  Soft echoes
of songs from times long past.  Hearts,
when you walk on the mountain, its ridges and trails,
when you lie in flowering meadows,
just listen how the wind calls your name.
Be silent!  the gates of the soul open here.
– Djohariah Toor

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