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