Silent Passage
The wind does not howl.
In silence it hurries to tomorrow
outrunning all regrets.
Grass hisses annoyance at its passing
Dead leaves chatter and call to one another
of where the wind has been.
Windows and shingles shudder and gasp
and demure that they do not dance.
The wind does not howl.
It is the trees who wail for mercy,
who groan and beg for release.
But is their wish for stillness?
As they grasp after its disappearing form,
do they cry out for the journey,
entreat the wind to pull them loose
and set them free at last?
Tracy Meisky is a poet, writer, singer, songwriter and all-around boat rocker from way back. Feel free to look around, but if you break it, you bought it.