Voice of wind
(the air in the branches)
Sounded like words
Whispering a spell on me
Until I heard
Now I see shapes in the low light
The earth quakes in the twilight
I see flames in my calm life
I hear the wind's dark poem:

(wind speaks:)
You can see from above, the rocks sticking out of
The yard behind the house make stone constellations
Half-buried in the dusk, the unformed stories
Coming to life while I sleep
The breath moves branches saying words that I
Don't know, a new poem
A song I sang in a dream
The lights of town faint
Something is exhaling in the sound of traffic, far away. Something's happening
Wind's dark poem describes
Calligraphy of branches writes
Stone constellation alive
The house is built on a boulder
Soil returns to the wind
Bones will blow in pink light
The distant sound is saying my name
The wind is taking pieces
Wind's Dark Poem is about the constantly roaring
Decay, the destruction of every day
And every morning's waking
But:
Even as spring is bringing
Blossoms back among leaves
The cold wind blows when night falls
And the bare branches bend