The Wind I Trust Mistakes Poem by James McLain

To think of all that you have known.
When coming I stop by.
And trees I see they skirt the open sky.
I look up when you in thought walk by.
When I stop there to near the narrow edge.
The church the steeple bell, the village square.
People are to restless near to pass I often hear.
And whether these are I, about your hand.
They have a way with snow the dark I fear.
The bushes there along the edge next spring.
Layer after layer the wind I trust mistakes.
The stream when frozen flows it smiles beneeth.
Each promise never kept for miles and miles.
Before I sleep when coming you, stopped by.