the wind (a poem)

the wind

that small movement,
akin to music
separating the stillness
div iding s p a c e s
conquering
e
n
t
w
i
n
e
d
branches

limb against limb
speaks what language

what mysterious tongue

and still the
r
a
i
n
falls on my upturned face
this welcome gift
mother,
bearer of life
and renewal
to all she touches
with her tears

something awakens
languidly
s
t
r
e
t
c
h
i
n
g

resplendent
silver touches
to each new leaf,
new leaf,
new bud

the oracle revealed

© 2001 TJ Scott