The Wind

At her strongest, the wind is never truly heard

In the wake of a tornado, you take shelter on the outskirts

Watch from afar as Mother Nature picks up a house.

But it is not the sound of her crimes that enters your ears,

It is your own shaking knees that you feel.

As you crumble to the sound of the crashing,

The devastation around her scares you, perhaps you flee.

Perhaps you see, what's left over of her

What is was is already gone.

And in the beach, you lay in a homemade bed.

Salty air in your mouth, sunshine in your vision.

Sand in your fingers, listening to the roaring of the waves in front of you.

The slap of the water, the rash of the white cap

You missed the whispers in the wind as she combed atop the sea.

You missed the embrace she blankets atop the earth

Because you feel your own heart and forget to listen to hers.

Whistling through the windows, flapping of your gutters

Powerful yet unseen.

Nobody can wrap around your body like she does.

You may not even feel it if she's gentle enough.

If she's warm enough.

She's everything, and nothing.

I call her Love.