She turns in twilight sleep
hair and gown long and stirring about
cresting round the moon.
The trees whisper to one another.
The broad trunks flute low
and sound the ocean sound.
It is the wind.
Who was it tugged on her dreams
causing her to notice we are here?
Branches lift and crawl.
It is the wind.
It is only a matter of time
before she awakens fully,
her attention upon us deeper
as she turns earthward
laughing, always laughing.
The long grasses whistle high
and sound the raptor sound.
It is the wind.
Soon earth and sky
will be one tonight
boiling in her spin.
It is the wind.
Few stars are out tonight.
It is the wind.
Whose heart is lifted?
Whose is afraid?
It is just the wind.
.......
.......
