Windwalker

[couchgrouch]

WindwalkerThough this old porch has fallen to disrepairI return here when sundown's in the western airI watch the moon peer through the mountain pineslike some lost motherlode from the silver mineand each tree is a shadowcasterev'ry night a crow perches on the hitching posthe's black as a mineshaft...bleak as a wand'ring ghosthis mournful caw is like a haunted swan songbut that crow is gone when roosters crow at dawnfor nothing is fasterthan a windwalkerat one with the open skya stranger by birth to the chains of earthhis true home is on highbound to go where zephyrs blowhe's a windwalkerthere's a path near this porch that winds up the hillwhere miners make their lonely march in the morning chillas I watch that path I feel midnight in my bloodbut I won't warm my cold heart with a whickey jugcos I can't nip the devil's nectarlamps are lit below...soon old friends will pass my waybut they rarely see me because I rest by dayI watch over their homes and the hollow hills at nightmade their keeper by greed and nervous dynamiteand like that crow my specteris a windwalkerat one with the open skya stranger by birth to the chains of earthmy true home is on highfree to go where zephyrs blowI'm a windwalker(c)2005 Robert George