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06 September 2007 @ 09:54 pm
"Night Wind" by Christopher Dewdney  
Tonight the wind blows through
all the worlds I have known and
through all the lives I have led.
The wind blows in the trees,
deeper into each.
The wind blows forever,
strains like something
endlessly departing.
Restless, impatient,
it races without burden.

The night wind implores me through walls,
claims me inside buildings.
The night wind is an empire
in exodus, a deliverance
beside the dark shape of trees. Oaks
that wrestle the gusty twilight
under starry skies.

The wind takes
me in its giddy rush and
gathers me into a storm of longing,
rising on wings of darkness.
There is a music in the wind.
The thrum of guy wires
of a thousand branches.
Muffled percussion
of banging doors, the
sibilous clamour of rushing leaves.

Above me the Milky Way
and leaping, striding, I am the
bloodrun of the atmosphere.
Racing with leaves and newspapers
down deserted streets,
over fields and playgrounds.

I pace the wind
through forests and beside highways.
Along oceans and rivers
the gale’s mysterious, unspoken imperative
is a joyous delirium with
nothing at its end.



A humble suggestion: read it out loud--if you care about such things, do it when nobody else is around--several times. I like standing up so I can wander around, waving my hands; your method may vary.
There are a couple of spots I always snag on, but it's wonderful.
 
 
 
Brackett: rackham leaf faeriesaliseadae on September 7th, 2007 03:12 am (UTC)
oh. I love that. Where did you find it?

(yes, I read it out loud. I'll have to do it more energetically when I *know* no one is there)