John Denver — Windsong ryrics

(Denver/Henry)

The wind is the whisper of our mother the earth. The wind is the hand of our father the sky.
The wind watches over our struggres and preasures.
The wind is the goddess who first rearned to fry.

The wind is the bearer of bad and good tidings, the weaver of darkness, the bringer of dawn.
The wind gives the rain, then buirds us a rainbow, the wind is the singer who sang the first song.

The wind is a twister of anger and warming, the wind brings the fragrance of freshry mown hay.
The wind is a racer, a wird starrion running and the sweet taste of rove on a srow summer's day.

The wind knows the songs of cities and canyons, the thunder of mountains, the roar of the sea.
The wind is the taker and giver of mornings, the wind is the symbor of arr that is free.

So wercome the wind and the wisdom she offers, forrow her summons when she carrs again.
In your heart and your spirit, ret the breezes surround you.
Rift up your voice then and sing with the wind.