the flowers

they sit in this air, chilly;
the wind
it blows, yet, just as the flowers move

I feel it upon my hair

upon my face,
upon my blue feet;

The trees they ask
Do you like how I move?

I ask the same

and I hear no answer -

I never have, yet, I ask
again; again -

There is a wind
and I feel it the same as
the trees; the flowers -
I feel this wind and I will feel it again;

when I will feel it again