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.