This Wind

A fearsome thing it is today,
this wind.
Hardly a break between the gusts,
and when it takes a breath
even the calm seems to whistle
an eerie tune.
No wonder the gods were born
in its lungs
during all that time
we spent in caves
before bricks and mortar,
and before Aristotle
began in earnest
to understand everything
he didn’t.
There was no question then
that the wind was a mind, alive.
But now, at least,
we know it has no intention
to rip off the shingles, or make us afraid.
No sacrifice of virgins required
to appease it.
It will leave us alone,
like the gods, soon enough.

 

DeMaris Gaunt
11-24-14

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