Windy Day
The wind blows through me,
Though where it comes from,
And where it goes,
I do not know.
It is a gift,
It tells me I’m alive.
What can I say? I love a windy day.
The wind blows through me,
Though where it comes from,
And where it goes,
I do not know.
It is a gift,
It tells me I’m alive.
What can I say? I love a windy day.
January 16th, 2008 at 5:02 pm
Lewis,
Glad to see you back online. I haven’t been updating my site much lately due to a recent move, but I hope to get back into it soon. I look forward to reading more of your poetry.
January 16th, 2008 at 5:50 pm
Dear Mike,
Great to hear from you, my friend - It’s interesting how we’ve both taken something of a break from things online, good to reconnect with you once more, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts and your new experiences in Scotland. I also loved the Meaning Of Life handrooster episode, cracked me up. Looks like I’ve got a few of those to catch up on. And glad to hear you’re woodcarving still - I’ve bought a couple of books which I hope will give me the inspiration to get into it. Such similar interests we have, quite interesting.