It’s in the Wind



Gaia's breath is  a sweet sigh
that cools us in the heat of summer's evening,
soft kisses on the damp pulse points at
backs of knees or inside elbows.

Fierce too like passion's pant,
gusty winds of spring,
the vitality of new love
an excited gasping.

Sometimes a furious squall of rage,
a banshee screaming exhalation,
toppling trees
slamming houses
tossing cars like mechano,
perhaps a violent  and vengeful
bellow
against our frequent transgressions.

Or maybe a teasing breeze
like a lover's trailing
caress down breastbone
or nape of neck,
rekindling even the  sleeping flesh
of the elderly
with the deep cellular memory
of nerves trembling
in exquisite aching tension,
a pendulum straining sideways,
till that tipping, tumbling crash
throws us onto
a calm shore,
restored to centre.

She croons to us in the language of her moods,
the wind carries her message as it travels
through forest and desert,
over ocean and icefield,
arriving to greet our skin,
with cool breath against our warmth,
goosebump braille her text
message on our flesh.

In wind's whisper
She says
"Love me too
and I will forever
kiss you with my sweet breath,
hold you safe in the eye of my storms
and lull you with soft zephyrs"**
**Alexander Pope ” Lull’d by soft zephyrs thro’ the broken pane.”
Prologue to Satires, line 42.
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