Where It Poem by James McLain

I hear the noise of the water, it comes with wind and voice,
it is sad it is as the sea the sea it's voice.
After while comes time her independent voice,
he sees the wind as water.
The wind of gray has blown, to where I go.
Somewhere I go directly.
Coming next and after next the noise of falling water
some have heard.
It stays with me all night, I am of you and those I do inquire about.
That it flows to here and there I could be every where I'm not.
Except where it is quite.