When you hear the wind a moanin’,
or goin’ softly in a sigh,
listen careful, and you’ll hear
folks speak from days gone by.
You’ll hear warriors makin’ war plans
around the council fire,
or a clicking sound that traveled
once on a telegraph wire.
You’ll hear scouts a talkin’ over
the way to take the wagons through,
or the soft crying of a settler’s wife,
far from home and feeling blue.
The wind carries the shouts of drovers
shovin’ longhorns across the creek.
You’ll hear the voice of wisdom
when a chieftain starts to speak.
The sound comes blowin’ through the air
of a teamster cussin’ a mule,
and the laughter of little kids playin’
by a sod-roofed dugout school.
You can hear a mother weeping
for a son who’s gone to war,
or a gunfighter’s challenge on the street
when he’s settlin’ up a score.
A country preacher’s admonitions
to his little congregation
still carry a message in the wind,
the promise of Salvation.
Every sound you utter,
every word you say
will blow along forever
to be heard another day.
Spoken words will never die.
Their message never ends.
They travel through eternity.
They’re carried in the winds.
Editor’s note: Joe Kreger writes from his home in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. His CDs are available from the Journal by calling 1-800-954-5263. For personal appearance information, call 1-816-550-6549.