There is a
point in all of us
Somewhere in
our DNA
Where nature
overtakes nurture
And we are
able to hear the cry
From our
long forgotten past.
It is the
wind that speaks to us
Beyond our
cell-phones and I-Pads
Beyond our
tv’s and computers
When
everything that consumes our daily lives
Is shut down
and there is silence.
Then we can
hear the wind.
I have heard
it and felt it before
But each
time in a place of silence
and alone. The wind. More than a whisper:
A cry, a
howl, a roar – a voice
That brings
back a clouded memory
Something through
a glass darkly
Of a time
when I am dressed in skins
Huddled in a
cave or blow down shelter
And the wind
outside is warning me
Don’t come
out. I am strong. I am Nature.
I am god.
the Ol'Buzzard
