Thursday, March 02, 2006

A Box Of Wind

Last night the wind woke me from sleep
rattling the windows, blowing open doors
shaking comfortable certainties.
I went spinning, whirling like a cloud of dust
or was I dancing?
This morning dead leaves swirl in a corner of the building
They whisper in a language I've forgotten.
What would I know if I could understand the wind?

Bring me a box of wind to carry in my pocket
a murmuring reminder of the language of the sky.
Bring me a box of wind for my bedside table
a music-box to dance to in my deepest dreams.
And if I should weep,
let my tears be rain in the wind.

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