That Never-forgetful Wind

some say the wind forgets what it touches,
forgets what it tastes, what it pushes
but I say the wind in the branches and rushes
and rippling the water with fingers and tongue
never ever forgets anything.

in the air that it pushes are draughts and elixirs
the mineral walls that it scratches and itches
are under its fingernails rakey, ah trickster
wind tasting and touching and saving and twitching
and never forgetting a thing.

and I find in me a wind, echoing that one
that tosses the stars around like they are dust
and my wind finds everyplace, my every cranny done
sparkly or plain or shallow, it simply must
always remember whatever it knows.

some say the wind forgets
but I know different.
smithsonian-photo-contest-credit-garry_ridsdale_h

One Year Ago

We were connected and vital, and love flowed
we were enough for our lack and love covered all
we heard our hearts speak louder than hate
and louder than failure and laughed in the night
and tender was our time, we thought would last

forever.

“‘They never built these places with winter in mind’
Out the window down the gray road
You can see old walled monastery
Now become a barracks for the paramilitary police”