The Wind Speaks

The air is alive
But only when it becomes wind.
Cool breeze and tornado,
All around, hovering.

Listen to it
In the beating wings
Of a sheet of paper,
Untethered to the world, fluttering.

Find its scent,
In the heat of an oven.
Racks of rising bread,
Loaves by the dozen.

Let it dance in the sky,
In the clouds swaying to its melody,
Sailing past the stars,
Sagas of history.

The wind is alive,
But it does not speak alone.
Through bread and through clouds
Help discover its tone.

Photo by Sebastian Coman from Unsplash

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