Whirling, whisping, talking, hissing
It whispers to me with harsh, cold lips
It hints with smooth, sharp statements
Long, drawn out tales of romance
It speaks to me, telling me where it has been
Stories of travel, love, and despair
It speaks to me, the wind, but I do not understand
I know to care, so I listen further
Through this cluttered conversation
She tells me where she is and what she wants
Where she has been weathers me
Whipped, waned, and windspent