by Joseph Coleman

Created on: June 07, 2009

I was so angry at you

the day you blew the hat from my bald head.

I mean, it was Winter!

And, I was trying to get into the store

because it was so damn cold out.

But, I had to run, fumbling across the parking lot

chasing my hat.

People laughed at me.

And, I'm certain that I was the subject at family supper tables.

But, I do forgive you, you're tantalizing humor.

Because I know who you are.

I don't know exactly where you come from

and, I really don't care.

There can be no prejudice in Nature

as there is in us ever-flawed humans.

You may have swept up from the West Indies

wherever they are.

Or, you may have come over from

the mysterious, Cambodian Plain of Jars.

In all probability;

you are from everywhere and, going anywhere.

In any event, you have carried the air

with a swift lifting for infinity's story.

And, swept the leaves swirling

about the world, stopped only by

the incessant grab of fences and buildings.

But, they don't stop you!

Oh no! They don't stop you!

You, the one who speaks of sorrow

to your brothers, the air, the Earth, the water.

You, who tell the tale in the joyless wail,

to the night of the screaming trees.

They think of you an abuse upon them.

They bend and wail at the torturous twisting.

I know that it isn't always

with reverence we speak of you.

For your seed is the Cyclone, Tornado,

and, an occasion rage that bends the great Tree.

You can make cows fly, and kills us mortals very gone.

We, who merely wonder at your dread,

think of you Nature's insane cousin,

left loose to war on our world.

Surely, you are this misunderstood kindness.

There is some good in all things.

So, what is the good that you do?

There was this man and this woman

who live in a cabin in the wilderness.

On a cold Winter night, as you came to see them,

you gave them the bellowing howl of the bowels

of the canyons and mountains of your thunderous might!

But they just laughed and made love

with the wine and fire on a warm rug

and, tangled themselves

in the tingling feel of their desire.

You entertained them with a sweet

background music to lend to their love.

Then, you moved on knowing that sometimes

you can lend, to a moment, some good.

I look out my window and, see the trees sway

to the beat of a wonderful legend of days

I know mine are numbered and fewer each moment

but, what about you/?

Where do you go when you finish your day?

My children always wondered that.

I told them you were hiding with the man in the Moon.

I know, I think it's silly too.

I know now, that you wander for all time

and beyond that even.

Don't you get tired? I know, I know!

There is constantly this need for some place to go

and, always the need, for you to just, blow!

The next time I feel your casual touch,

rather than go running, fumbling;

I will just smile.

After all, you are just this Wind.

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