by Elsa Johnson



Not susurration   this present wind   That would

be a softer stirring  …the trees’ leaves tendering

whispers of intimate rubbings – touch – green leaf

to green leaf    in quiet communication …but

this wind is a boil  …seethe of leaves whipped — 

funneled to furious    yet not destructive : a

life-full sound and so  …sustaining    Eyes closed   

this seethe could be sound of a strong tide

running on a blind night… sea swirled and churned

to froth and foam    spume and fume also wind

driven    The moment? – immersive :  sight nothing   

sound everything   Solace…  when time stops

(or seems to) …eyes closed   ears open   hear

this roaring sibilance born   not of rage