I am the Wind,
Unseen partner,
Dancing with the clouds,
Ruffler of hair, and
Breath of the world.
I put wrinkles on oceans,
And smooth the tracks of man,
From sand and snow,
I whisper to lovers,
Carrying messages between them,
And in the Spring,
I make love to the trees.

I am the Sea,
Lifeblood of the Mother,
And the womb of life,
I nurture storms, crush continents,
And feed the world.
My children hide the sun,
And wash the sins of man,
From the land.
I keep their secrets within me,
And carry their lonely souls
From heart ache to heart ache.

I am the sand,
Once noble as a mountain,
Now tossed by wind and sea,
Filling the hollow places
And scars upon the Earth.
I am the voice of humility,
The fate of the tallest peaks,
Falling through fingers, like time,
Like love, untended.

I know you’re in there,
Hiding behind my eyes,
Filling the hollows in my head,
Making me wonder
Just who decided that I needed
More love.

Show yourself,
It’s okay,
I know you’re in there.

It’s not like I haven’t lived
With somebody else’s hands
Working the sheets,
Tacking back and forth,
Down the channel,
Trying to miss the stink *** drivers
Who can’t see passed the beer cans
In their fat, sweaty, hands.

Oh, I’ve sat at the helm,
Listening to the tactician whisper,
“Stand on, stand on, ready to come about.”
Waiting for the shout,
“Hard a’lea.”
Cutting over ‘til the compass reads
North by northwest,
Then standing on,
Standing on.


But this is different.
The whispers didn’t have a voice,
Just a presence behind my eyes,
And the call to tack came before
I was ready.
But I turned the helm,
And the sails swung to port.

There,
Sitting on the rocks,
Singing their silent, beckoning songs,
Their blue-green eyes
Flashing behind the tendrils of their
Foam, blonde hair,
Sat the Sirens of my life,
Smiling their bow-lipped, ruby smiles,
Laughing because they know
There’s no way in hell
That I won’t run a course
Straight into their laps.

You must think it’s funny,
Watching this,
Laughing at how a sailor can’t
Tell the difference between a siren’s lap,
And the Fiddler’s Green,
Laughing at me,
Behind my eyes,
Tempting me with
More love.

Your life is like a paisley scarf,
Filled with twisted teardrops,
Big and little, colored like a garden,
Blowing in the breeze.
Watching it tips my balance,
But I can’t, not watch.

So drawn to the whirlpool
Of colors and sounds that generate
All around you,
I’m like a leaf in a wind storm.
One moment dry and brittle from the
Rarified edges of the storm,
Then pulled in close,
And filled with the moist heat
Flowing from your passion,
I’m made whole and fresh again.

I want to reach out, pull myself in,
And bathe in the essence,
Emanating from the center of
Your life, then toss back my head
And learn to fly.
I want to smell, and taste, each flower
That grows from your garden,
Like a bee in the springtime.

I want to be wrapped in that paisley scarf,
And tucked into a drawer,
Right next to the things you wear
Closest to your skin,
To lie luxuriously bathed in your scent,
And I want you to think about me,
When those garments catch, and hold,
The warmth of your body.

I want to wear you like a cloak,
And watch your swirling colors
As I dance across time, and space,
Showering you with pearls,
And laughter, plucking fruit
From the mountaintops,
Feeding you with my lips.

I could spend a lifetime
Counting your colors,
Kissing your flowers,
Swirling in the vortex of
Your passion,
But instead, I watch, and wait,
Until the storm whips that scarf
Close enough for me to
Reach out and take hold.