Wind Age

Cover and conceal it
If you plan to save it—
But if you reveal it,
You may yet get the chance

To fly away with it!
Day begins with lifting
That colossal cat, one
Paw only in the air,

So as not to disturb
The bounded atmosphere.
Wind howls around the walls,
Wind lonely for the rain,

Wind without storm, below
An outflung arm of stars,
Branch of milk, leafed with eyes,
Each eye another world.

The cat becomes a snake
Of feet and claws that flies
Through the dark with green eyes
And promptly disappears

Through stars’ trees, faster than
An Eta Aquariid
Poured from night’s water jar
Of dry winds, flickering.

Nothing makes any sense
Caught in an age of wind.
Comfort’s a rune, half-carved,
Hidden, and half-ruined.