Where the Wind Blows
The Waxing Moon and the Wind
The winter wind tears at the throat of night
like a fair weather friend.
Once, breeze born seeds had nourished
the ripe soil of summer's joining,
alliances of water, wind, earth and fire
which formed from heart source,
now ravaged by competition.
Howls of blood lust wreak havoc
on the weakening darkness, the pack hunts,
reveling in the hoar frost and the sharp
hump of gibbous moon in the eastern sky.
Each rattle of shutter brings hope to the
onslaught of gale searching to claim
the lead and lead…
to find a chink in the human armor
of hearth, home and family.
Yet, though the wind has might,
the heart fire burns bright and in this warm
light true friendship can be born,
for there is no beauty in the gnashing of teeth
and rending of nascent flesh.
May the wind mellow and once again
carry the seeds of Spring, new life, new art,
and upon the rack of Godly hart.
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