John Denver, "Windsong"

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 struggles and pleasures.
The wind is the goddess who first learned to fly.

The wind is the bearer of bad and good tidings, 

The weaver of darkness, the bringer of dawn.
The wind gives the rain, then builds us a rainbow, 

The wind is the singer who sang the first song.

The wind is a twister of anger and warning, 

The wind brings the fragrance of freshly mown hay.

The wind is a racer, a wild stallion running 

And the sweet taste of love on a slow 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 symbol of all that is free.

So welcome the wind and the wisdom she offers, 

Follow her summons when she calls again.
In your heart and your spirit, let the breezes surround you.
Lift up your voice then and sing with the wind.