Saturday, 19 November 2011

Whistle for the Wind

And for a windy day, perhaps the folk-belief that it was possible to whistle up the wind, and summon the spirits of the air and the ghosts of the ancestors...

Whistle for the Wind
The wind is rising along the beach,
Sand blows past the sea wall's breach;
Ahead, there is the half-ruined pier,
And some say there was buried here,
A whistle of strange design, carvings,
Of runic design, beneath the shifting
Coastline it was placed, perhaps lost,
In distant ages, beneath the permafrost,
Of colder clime, wrought from bone;
And meant perhaps for tomb of stone,
But left behind, forgotten, down deep,
Holding fast a secret power to keep;
Beware the stranger who comes across,
The whistle that called to the albatross,
With this, you would conjure the wind,
A mighty storm, not easy to rescind;
And more perhaps, O foolish man,
To call the note that sounds the clan,
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
A shadow semblance drives you mad.

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