1.4.13 Each Millennium a Crone

Feel the wind
whirling round rooftops
pushing away footsteps
plying you from the door

Hear the wind
sighing through bare branches
lilting along ravines
swooning down the hills

Smell the wind
fresh with what was distant
filled with unseen
pungent woodland stream

Touch the wind
sipping from your fingers
rippling past your squinted face
wildebeest caught in hair

Close your eyes
be still now your body
wind that rocks the earth around
wind that carries molecule and sound
wind that breathes and sings and moans
each decade a goddess
each millennium a crone