I worked to the rush of wind today;
it was steady and unrelenting in ways
I was not.
Does the wind ever wish it could just
pause,
know the singularity of a particular
place?
Or must it always be a wanderer on its
way somewhere
reminding us that change
is both unrelenting and inevitable,
never impossible.
That there is a way from west to east
from here to there,
from this to that,
from now to then.
