THE MYSTIC WINDS

Sometimes, early in the evening just after dark, I sit on the front porch listening. Just listening and thinking. I think about family and how much my sister and her grandmother were so much a like in an odd sort of a way.

The prevailing winds at the old home site were predominately from west to east. These winds seemed to follow the path of least resistance, following the contour of the ridges, hills and hollows, making eerie and weird sounds. The sounds would change depending upon the route they chose. They would start way back behind the Listening Rock, a mountain to the west and seemed to make a half circle around our home. They would pause at the Hooty Knob and would either take the southern route through the Tomahawk Hollow or swing north toward the Whinnlin Ridge.

When we were children, my sister Alta and I would sit on the front porch, especially in the summertime, just after dark, listening to the winds. We would try to predict which route they would take by the sounds they made. Over time, we could make our predictions with more than a fair degree of accuracy.

Alta used to tell me that these winds were messengers……..a spooky means of communications within these hills. She called them, the mystic winds. Sometimes, when the sounds were really eerie, she would tell me they were coming after me!

Often, when I was sitting alone, listening to the mystic winds, Alta would slip up behind me, grab me under the arms and yell, "Gottcha!" She scared the crap out of me!

She took care of me and I loved her so!

I lift mine eyes unto these hills
‘Neath starry Milky Ways,
Lighting paths that lead me home
Through hollow, ridge and haze.
I hear the distant Mystic Winds
Draw nigh through bended tree.
A messenger from yesteryear,
A coming, a coming, a coming after me!

The hills form words and ride the winds
A prophetic voice to heed.
Reminding me that I am part
Of a very special breed.
Men with honor, now long dead
Left a heritage for me
And sent the aged Mystic Winds
A coming, a coming, a coming after me!

"You’re the best God has to offer!"
These old hills seem to say.
And age requires that you maintain
The signs to mark the way.
Bold signs of truth and honor
That will guide your family
And prodded by those Mystic Winds
A coming, a coming, a coming after me!

These hills someday will claim their own
No matter where we stray.
Kindred spirits will reunite
From now ‘til judgment day.
And sons and daughters, kindred all
Will share the victory,
When they hear those Mystic Winds
A coming! A coming! A coming! After me!