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