The Distant Wind
It's because of the flatness all about, beyond these green hills
that bulge up along the thrashing river,
It's because of the distant flatness and the way
the wild wind whips past that brings this hissing in the trees,
This constant motion, that lifts the turkey vultures,
that brings the rumbling thunder, that makes
Trees fall broken-hearted, trees that had once sprung up
curving their roots around and under solid granite.
It's because of the song that lifts through my larynx,
the wind that enters the flow of wind,
And where this wind comes from and where it goes,
singing notes that called into being these very notes within.
It's because of the sweet motion of the river that lifts up
singing through the wind's song with its own rushing
And that of the sea to which it flows.
I wait below. If you hear me sing you'll know
It's not my song alone: I'm singing the wind;
I'm singing the sound of the waters;
I'm singing you home.