In wind, a transformation

Tis the season
to be harried,
to be blown this way and that
by memories and expectations:
brace yourself,
hold onto your hat --
or let it blow
and let it go:
this, too, shall pass
and in its wake --
if we remember to breathe --
stillness might come,
and night,
and stars,
and wind become
sweet music to my ears.


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