78555427She calls out to the wind
A keening so peculiar
It raises a holy hell
Transforming the world
Into a gaping chasm
Wide enough to hold an echo
That never comes back down
A whistling in the fields
This driving rhythm
Forcing itself into a beat
A repetition that slides
Over and against itself
Like reptilian scales
Sparkling in the sunlight
And the wind calls back
A whispering of sorts
A shushing in the breeze
Mistaken for the coyotes
That answer in blood
A fitting reply indeed
To nature’s infatuation
With the daughters of man
This search for a silence
Fleeting in its cadence
Divine in its felicity
Stirring up the dust
And waiting for the rain.


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