No Need to Be Strong

Motion is a wind poem, a reflection on birth, growth, friendship, and support. Like the wind, we’re never still.

Motion – a Wind Poem

Dipping, the wind tilts my face to the left
 and pushes my nostrils ajar just enough
 to arrive at the edge of the garden, slotting
 blades of grass into a sharp angle so the rain
 can permeate the sleeping soil around the pressing roots
 of letters and splinters leaching to fly on high but dropping
 leaden to the ground. 
 
Rising, the wind lifts my kite toward your temples
 and brushes your sweat clear
 to merge with the air in my lungs, sinking
 droplets of pollen into the bosom of a purple flower
 ruling your eyes, now a well, as the kite is soaring
 beyond our gaze badgered by the same wind but gliding
 featherlight airward.
 
Waltzing, the wind binds sap and bark
 and crumbles the fence splitting the garden 
 midway and through, to bolt our feet to still mud, 
 garnishing leather skin with a medley of 
 stalks and roots so married 
 fingers can't hem or tilt them for 
 the sheer beef of the breeze. 

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