listening to the wind

The wind blew with a whipped up whine

high pitched whys whisked by

too quickly to catch them

in the early morning wake between reverie and real

wizened cries of clenched souls

aching for answers

whyeeeeeeeeeeeeeee whyeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Down an octave, this whining wind flew

to a bellowing moan wrapping around lost limbs

producing a winter wonder of whos

making slumber restless in it's thinking

sorrowful sounds of constricted spirits

wanting to know

whooooooooooo whooooooooooo

whistling, whining, reaching out for forgiveness

ghosts formed in winter winds

caught dead inbetween

where souls can go

pleading in their whines and moans

for an unrelenting release of mercy never granted

why?

who?

will it ever end?

Clenched souls, prisoners of sin

Seeking restitution

Searching for the silence of the stars

Where light wraps in solace

in the hour of loneliness.

Where forgiveness stills the seeker

in the hour of loneliness.

Are the river ghosts making their winter arrival known? I think so.