The Wind’s Latest Bequest

I’ve given much to the Wind

And still she entices me

My quietly muttered songs,

My desperate prayers,

My jovial laughter,

My harsh obscenities;

She takes it in gracefully

But seemingly always thirsts for more.

She continually beckons

And I gratefully indulge her,

For where else shall I lay my cares

Than on the sojourning winds

To the place where it will never find itself.

To the place where my words will never find themselves.

 

How mercifully poignant

That I should see my reflection in a puddle on the sidewalk

Shoulders bare with the clear sky above me,

Whistling the wind’s latest bequest.

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