THE WIND
There are many things
about the wind
that I do not know.
I have not seen the wind,
and no one has told me
where the wind lives,
or where it is going
when I hear it
and when I feel it
rushing by.
And something more
I do not know about the wind.
I do not know if it is angry
or if it is playing
and just doing the things it does
for fun.
Sometimes
the wind gathers the sand
into whirlwinds
and makes them dance
over the flat lands
until they are tired
and lie down
to get their breath.
Sometimes
the wind bends the wild grass
down to the ground,
and makes the sagebrush
bow its head
as if a giant moccasin
had stepped on them
in passing.
Today the wind makes the
tumbleweeds
look like sheep
jumping off high banks
and racing up arroyos
with no dog to guard them,
with no herder to guide them.
Poor tumbleweeds are frightened
because
they do not know where to go.
I want someone to tell me
if the wind is angry
or if it is playing with me
and racing with me
and my many skirts
across the sand.
When the wind blows
my long skirts,
my many skirts
are in a hurry
to get to the hogan
where the wind
cannot push them.
They pull me along
when I am walking
and my feet
have a hard time
to keep up
with my skirts.
