Wind Song

Wind-chimes on the atmosphere,
Falling loudly to the ear.
Sounding in the rustling leaves,
Over boughs and under eaves.

Tossing clouds in windward fashion,
Surging upward in a passion.
Like the lute...the lay of strings,
Pressing chords where rhythm rings.

From the crevice of the cliff,
On the heights where space can lift.
Shrill cries...seeking out a truce,
Long before their depths can loose.

Turning all the pathways open,
Like a wild-steer swiftly loping,
A serpent fierce, untamed and finned,
These are the facets of the wind.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Gordon Lightfoot concert in Salt Lake City, Ut, USA