The Laughing Wind
Have you ever heard the wind laugh?
I have. Just last week, Thursday, in fact.
(Or perhaps not. I could be making this up.
Poets do that sometimes, you know.)
The afternoon was beautiful, the kind of day
About which a fancy poet might wax lyrical
But, because I’m not particularly fancy
I got distracted by a leaf falling from an oak tree.
The leaf was reddish-brown and crispy-edged.
It danced in the air unconsciously, as if
Practicing for an upcoming ballet audition
In a quiet studio where no one could see.
I watched the leaf pirouette and whirl,
Hang free then spin again, catching the light
And holding it just long enough
To make me catch my breath.
Just as I was finding the words to lay
Down on paper, after I had caught my breath
And gathered myself enough to be a poet
For just a few critical minutes that afternoon,
A gust, unexpected and unprovoked,
Blew up from the west, the source of all
Mischievous winds, and pushed the leaf
on a perfect collision course with my face.
That would have been that, except at the
Exact moment when the leaf and my face met,
I definitely heard the wind laugh at both of us.
Because the wind’s a jerk.
This is mostly a true story. Just so you know.
(Photo Credit: cocoparisienne on Pixabay)