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Posts Tagged ‘wind’

One Time Warp

 

 

 

leaning into a wind

from twenty years ago—

still tugging tears from my eyes

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One Note from the Wind

 

 

 

 

another morning,

another chance to be

utterly rearranged

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One Blustery

 

 

enormous wind—

hanging on to my smile

so it won’t blow away

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Hymn to What’s Bare

 

 

 

Last night’s wind scoured

the trees and stripped

their boughs—

it is easy in today’s calm

to wish my soul had been out

in the woods last night.

Emptiness reveals more

than all the gold, all design.

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There are monks who sing

for the laity—May you be happy,

and today I sing it, too,

though I have not been

anointed and have no special

sway, but I stitch my song

into the morning’s ferocious wind

and send it everywhere,

May you be well.

The wind rips the words

from my lips. I sing them

again. This is all

we have in this world,

the way we choose

to meet it.

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wind so strong

the only part of me unwhipped

is my wonder

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something urgent in the way

the wind pulls on my skirt,

less like a child and more

like a lover, hungry, saying,

now, right now, it doesn’t

matter who’s looking,

we could do it

right here

 

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Blowing and gusting

and pushing and rushing

the wind tugs at every

surface it finds

and pries and whips

and shreds and flips,

overturns and tears

and ravages, wears down

and frays, unravels

and loosens in an entropy

dance, and to all

it touches—willow,

leaf, clothesline, fence,

it whispers

resilience, resilience.

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Katabatic

 

 

The leaves debate the wind.

We all know who will win.

There is no sound in the fall.

 

Whatever we might do here

amounts to little more than their rustling,

perhaps not even that.

 

Scratch of the branch

at the window. And then

it is silent.

 

 

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Could be you feel

like a tiny bird

flapping hard, hard

as you can

into the wind.

Though there

is no sign that says

Dead End,

you are not going

anywhere and can’t

imagine you ever will.

Could be

all that fluttering

exhausts you

until

you stop all that trying

and turn away

from whatever it is

you think

you are flying toward.

And then

perhaps

you understand—

not with your head,

with your whole being—

that wherever the wind

is going to go

it will go. Could be

you find yourself

saying yes to the wind,

the same wind,

you know this, that fills

your lungs.

Could be that it

is so beautiful,

this new kind of flying,

that you forget

to be frightened

that you do not know

what will happen next.

Could be you’ve never

been quite so aware

how infinite

the sky.

 

 

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