Poem: The Wind Talker

The Wind Talker

In the hush of dawn, when shadows creep,
A whisper stirs from the world’s deep sleep.
It curls through trees, it dances wide,
A secret voice, the winds confide.

The wind talker speaks in a tongue of air,
A language known to the sky and the prayer.
Its words are soft, like the rustling leaves,
A murmur carried on forgotten eves.

It speaks of mountains, of oceans wide,
Of ancient journeys, the storms did guide.
Through desert sands and forest green,
Its voice is heard, though rarely seen.

It carries tales of a time long past,
Of warriors brave and futures cast.
It whispers of hope, of sorrow and flight,
A symphony born in the depths of night.

The wind talker’s song, a fleeting sound,
A wisdom scattered on winds unbound.
No ear may catch the full refrain,
But in its breath, we feel the strain.

A tale too vast for mortal tongue,
Yet in our hearts, its truth is sung.
For the wind talker speaks to all who roam—
Its winds shall guide you, and bring you home.