What is it asking you
to do, the wind?
Restless, yearning, it circles,
stalks among the trees.
If you could understand
its language of whispers,
murmurs, sighs, how would you
answer its call? Though garish
light demands attention,
there has never been a better
time than now, tonight, to listen,
to allow its secrets to move,
move through, you — because
the urgent voice
of a northwesterly wind
is easier to discern in the dark.
© 2020 by Hannah Six
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