The wild tossing
in the trees above me can be nothing but
an ancient dance of pure joy; lady Wind is
rushing through the scene, darting this way and
that, invisible to everyone. But my heart
joins in her feral laughter.

She is slim, kinetic, pale, and graceful: breath-
taking. Long, dark tresses flow as if floating in
water. Streaking with lighteningly quicksilver
movements, her bright, obsidian eyes glint out
from between-places, their volcanic treasure
somehow intensely cool and polished
like stars. An erratic comet weaving wildly
through the trees, she transforms the fields into
a blue and silver waving ocean.

All the way home, a wild, cleansing Wind
rushes coldly through my soul,
laughing for sheer joy.

c. Mary Kathryn Gough 3/29/03
edit: Mon December 5th, 2011 8.23pm wales