In a Quiet Far from Stillness

In a quiet far from stillness,

the solemn trees applaud with rasping leaves

the brash wind shooting shadow-waves

along the wrinkled plain.

The knife-tipped wings of shadows

slash at paper clouds

then dip to cut thin ripples

in the murky mirrored sky. 

Oh Wind, who plays the branches

with a low and hollow drone,

who tries to tear my hair away

and terrify my soul

Oh Wind who, in my childhood,

once struck my mother with fear,

your chill and roar only fill my soul

with a bold, defiant thrill. 

I stand my ground and stare you down

and grin with hair flung wide,

see through your flashing, broken rage

to the power that penned you on earth’s page.

to the face both grim and filled with care

whose might inspires awe and fear.

And when you scream your voice away, 

my memory will keep you here.