It belittles my own objectives today
And commands me to witness,
from here,
my bed.
This very air that forces itself through my narrow valley
may well have roared past you
on your distant coast.
Lashing the tin of your town and
boiling the surf through the moonless night.
dogs hiding
street lamps swaying.
it brings me these thoughts
as it ebbs to into a passing reprieve.
The old pine in my garden adopts an optimistic posture
yet Damocles sword still hangs above it
Just as it must for us all.
I can picture you,
drawn to some lonely sea cliff,
alone with this fierce wind as it rips back layers of your thoughts
determined for you to have a mind cleared of all
but the majesty of the moment
I’d stand there with you
as your hair whipped
small reminders to watch,
Witness the foam killing itself against the cliff face
over and over again
The sea birds fighting and screaming for shelter
along precarious ledges.
The ocean itself has brought a war against the rock,
the wind is allied and feverish in its partnership.
There stands you.
All of this is just for you.
Every element acting in unison conspired to create this intensely
beautiful, wild moment
just to be witnessed by you.
This air breathes past my window now.
the very air
That whipped your hair
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