WIND

I am obsessed with the wind

Of all natures children

Of all natures gods

It is the wind that awes me most

I can view the sunrise and sunset

And feel the sun's warmth on my skin,

I can appreciate the eerie light of a full moon

reflected on a snowbound world,

I can see and hear the tumbling water of a stream

And experience the pleasant serenity of a lake.

But it is the wind

I can welcome the soft touch of a snowflake

as it kisses my face,

And shiver as the rain soaks my clothes

and chills my frame,

I can hear thunder 

and startle at the streak of lightning ripping the sky.

But it is the wind that speaks to me.

I have bask at the fire that brings contentment

and warmth to my home,

And choked as my lungs fill with smoke 

as the forest burned away,

I have driven on the ice

on the Kuskokwim River.

But it is the wind

I have seen the northern light

blaze in the twenty-four-hour night,

I have felt the penetrating chill

of the cold at fifty below,

But it is the wind

the wind I remember most.

Huddled in my bed in a tiny log cabin

In the darkness of the never ending Arctic night

While the wind outside, unrelenting, warned me

‘You do not belong here.  This is my world.  I rule here.  Hear me and quake.’

It is the wind

The relentless wind that keeps me awake tonight.

the Ol'Buzzard