From the album Home in the Heartland
The wind, she whisper’s low, is she speaking to my soul? And I wonder who else can hear what she’s saying…
When I breathe, will it whirl through her body, ‘round the world
And do we take her in or are we within her?
When we speak in joy or shame, does it make her feel the same carried on the lightning through her atmospheric brain? If she does take our thoughts, whispering back to each of us, then we’re the blood running through her gulfstream veins.
So let us spend our days breathing grace and let laughter fill our nights
and let us raise a glass to the friends we’ve had and the bounty of our lives.
Does she feels the first gasp of birth, or gives life to our dying words and was she under wing as the Wright’s gave flight to man?
Does the sun warm her skin? When the tide goes out does she breathe in blowing every word back to the mouth where it began?