Wings Of Living, Wings Of Death. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

A sad wind is in the trees
A rustling wind speaking
With a breath hot and furtive
winging in from far away
With messages from the living
And stories from the dead

This wind is in the trees
Driving me out of cover
Exposing my ill hidden self
As I look to the west
To the last sun setting
Wings, I see-two sets

Approaching me both
For one is death
The other breathes living
Which will stop
And hail me ride
Quick decisions
have never been

comrades of mine.