The Wind, The Stars My Brothers

The wind, the stars my brothers, spread wide this Texas night,

each his own in skin and soul, fed, hungry, or lame their plight.

Love all there is to give, love the only hope,

moments fleeting by, sky always at full lope.

Love, light dreams and water for dry thirst

them that feel bland sympathy, hurl fatal stones, be first.

The young bold, blind sure of self in confidence to fall,

are lucky when unbroken, it never was their call,

beaten down, inured by years to limping stooping gait,

to persevere through pain, pain deep with no abate.

no easy out till bitter end unhappy, downtrod, robbed at every turn,

find scant joy for children, no comfort till the urn.

The wind, the wind, the boisterous wind, grants us calm reprieve,

our brothers suffer mightily, wind a balm for those who grieve.

The piercing stars, the velvet cloak of deep and wondrous dark,

rustling, rattling, scuttling leaves, Texas flat, sand stark

a jobs a job a chance a home a meal simple honest toil

the  solid moon and level land, known but foreign soil.