the windsongs speak
their tales of change.
lean in close, they tell you, come
listen. to the robin's nest
and the fire's glow and
the baby's breath.
lean close, they whisper, don't
miss them. don't
parry. don't boast. don't
brood in the light of mourning.
they summon, they taunt you. come
kiss them.

and the foxtrot leaves a trail of haste.
is it honest?
is it spiteful? does
the lamb's ear sing its
hymn of sorrow? does
the boy cry wolf in the dead of night?

lean toward fear, they tell you.
you listen.