What the Wind Whispers
—James Navé
Forever
and without trouble,
I start now.
No force
or struggle,
swimming along,
no knots.
I tap at your door.
Will you join me?
Let's go down
the willow path,
past the old trees
that understand,
troubled yesterdays
When the dance
comes in time, without
the will of fierce wind,
I will tell you about the secret
that visits me often
coming through the window.
Here's what the wind whispers.
“fire will do when you crack
the young flowers open
in the blue whale rain
that falls from days gone by.”
When will I be able to say
I belong to the rain?
Who will check on me,
kiss me when spring comes
after the long cold?
Take me to the first party
before the sky goes white
like old bones left alone
on the side of a hill
where cougars roam
and stars pop out at dusk.
I wish I had more time
to tell you about
what I did this morning,
when I rose early,
still dark,
no sound—late stars in the sky.
I walked to the kitchen,
made a coffee,
then sat down, alone
like some small blue whale
floating in the air.
