she is the wind
blowing cool through an open window,
caressing exposed skin,
giving me shivers and
ordering hairs to stand at attention.
when i open my eyes
i see only the evidence
of her passing.

she is the wind
hanging heavy on a summer day;
...sweat beads burst from skin,
her warm touch licks them as
they roll down my face.
when i reach for her
i feel only the heat
on my fingers.

she is the wind
rustling the leaves of my soul,
swaying branches of my tree,
causing overripe memories to
fall to the ground;
leaving me bare and vulnerable
and uncertain of the future.
when i look for her
she is inside me; outside me;
and all around.
she is the wind.