The Talking Wind

I've been talking with the wind a lot

Throwing words out that I've kept too long

We breathe the same way when we're drawn

I know I have a friend in it

Ah, your fingers weave, above the trees

Ah, the talking wind, the turning leaves

As you left, a force, to fly on

You left a fragment to be played upon

Fallen and grown new, the wind restored

It went right through

I stood in it's way and became it

Ah, your fingers weave, above the trees

Ah, the talking wind, the turning leaves

Ah, your shoulder blades, among the waves

Ah, you fly away, and dissipate

The wind makes sound instead of words

And I think I understand

Neither needs to explain in turn

It cries out, and I understand