I never understood wind
how it loops and loses
soft ground, loess
picking things up over here and
putting them down over there
you know you cannot keep
scuffling with such big feet
and how it grabs you and lets you
go home saying, “oh, the wind.”
the wind answers to different
names—breeze, blow, gale,
gust, low pressure outflow—
but most often we say, “it’s windy,” and get no
answer, can’t even hear
you say, “it’s windy”—just see
the lips move. the wind is all the sound.
and I have never understood.
there’s more to the wind, I think,
than what we think.
for a thought is but a twinge, a sputtered
spark; the wind can strip bark and lay low
oak, house, holiday
umbrella, can blow the day dark.
the wind is of the world and always
chasing its tail, though it has
nowhere to go, just around, and I could learn
to stop standing, and still
to let you know.
I saw your lips move.
words don’t matter.
I saw the shapes of them,
going up and down,
and I say, though I don’t know,
“I know,” and “yes.”