The Wind in the Evening

the wind in the evening

that shakes the tiny leaves

like a frenzied green swarm

the wind that stalks the sun

to the horizon

that grinds

the stars like shards

of glass

that steers the moon

that drags its oars

across your dreams

the wind in the night

that snaps

at the pegs of your tent

like a whip

that screams

forbidden names

from tattered scriptures

that shatters nests

and bursts the glistening

spider webs

then

the wind at dawn

that wakes beside you

and whispers promises

it will not keep

that is suddenly

still

as a mirrored pond

that gentles the morning

with calm words

the wind that slowly stirs

the long prairie grasses until

they shimmer like bright dust

from a box of dry paints.

the wind that draws its bow

across your wheels

and coaxes music

from the thrumming spokes

the wind that leaves the cattle

unperturbed

but pins the hawk

against the sky

that sends the dread hulls

of clouds

sailing their shadows

across the earth

the wind that slings its lasso

around the tall trees

that buck and rear

that leans into you

like a wrestler

that drinks your sweat

before it breaks

the surface

of your skin

the wind

whose breezes

are betrayal

the wind

that is an ocean

you must swallow

with every breath

you draw