LINES ABOUT THE WIND
All fuss and bluster, the wind is busy.
It has a long way to go
Across the wide seas in one long breath,
Clearing its throat down the avenues of commerce.
The wind is master of the clouds,
Sends scraps and dust along the highways.
The wind can be fresh and the wind can be ill
Everyone has mixed feelings about the wind —
The sirocco the Santa Ana, and the mistral
(Which sounds like mistress and minstrel)
All make you crazy. You can blame the wind
When you hate your job or beat your kids —
Go off with your colleague for a dirty weekend.
But no one likes it when the wind quits
And stops the chimes in the park
And stalls the sailboats in the public fountains
And the blades cease spinning on the prairie
And gutter leaves halt running toward erosion
And no breeze lifts the horse’s tail
Or dries the sweat on a baby’s neck.
The letter carrier left his little truck open.
The wind is blowing away my debts.