Night Winds

For the voice of winds at night...

Night winds wind through darkened alleys
Sweep across ill-lighted streets
Clutter and unclutter steel glass valleys
Rise on the tides of city heat

They have combed the plains for memories lost
Of travelers, wanderers born
Strafed the desert and counted the cost
Paid for wisdom forlorn

The winds of night they whisper to me
In a language all their own
Of miles and ages and unfolding stories
Through a chorus of whistles and moans.

Author's Note

All comments and suggestions welcome.

Reviews

[Jack Wolfe]

This was a beautiful write, James, sailing upon the winds, through treacherous terrains, both city and rural, capturing the very memories in their midst. The winds never truly die, only slumber, and then embark on their long journey. And to be at one, to embrace, and acknowledge is a true gift. Only issue, and mild, and because of me, the winds 'wind'. I know the difference in the meaning, but I first read it as winds wind, but that could be slow grasping mind.

[J. Land]

Thanks, Jack. This piece is one of the few that I really like. Not sure why.

[Jack Wolfe]

I believe I'm on that same train.

[Jack Wolfe]

I believe I'm on that same train.