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Words on the Wind

Words on the Wind

Sorrowful and hollow
Words on a distant wind
Through the twisted oak branches
That hug the corn field.

Talking in its flute-like language,
Speaking to the shut-away and the sad,
“Your lover will return
Just in time for Harvest.”

And so the Wind’s song,
Without a change in tune or tempo,
Suddenly becomes a joyous song
Of anticipation, hope
And heart-filling grace.

This is my Journey,
— Nate Long “Owl”

graphite with digital manipulation

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