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Unamed #1
She is alive,
relentless
a crisp, conscious force
hurtling through
the sky
I see an outline of a
tiger
behind the invisible gusts of air,
as though she swipes and claws
at foes
then crouches back in retreat.
You might simply see
what you’ve always seen
The whooshing swirls pushing past
and through
and all around.
brushing and rushing in your hair
You might see a spirit,
twisting and tapping
and dancing,
running and expanding like fallen liquid
Cascading silkily from above.
Wind lives.
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