The wind blows where it wills;
you hear the sound of it
but you do not know
where it comes from
or where it is going.
So with everyone
who is born of spirit.
          -- John 3:8

You were warm
        and I had woken
        to the wonder
        of my growing.

Now the storm
        has left me broken  
        bending under
        every blowing.

Still, the norm
        that once was spoken
        lets me blunder
        into knowing.

Fill my form
       with laughing token
       of your thunder's
       love of flowing.

--- Mahlon H. Smith


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* Author's note: This poem & melody ("Wind song")
were first published as a Christmas greeting
  (December 1974)..

Author's sketch: Canebrake

Collected Poems
Mahlon H Smith

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all rights reserved