Who's coming?

poem by Ruth Salles

Who's coming? It's the wind!
Vibrates and flies across the shortcut.
Crushes the stone with just the breath,
sweep the wasp off its branch.

Leaps and ululations and hums and frightens,
twist the trunk, crack the tile.
Doors hang, glass flies,
trembles in the afternoon and blushes.

Add the sun and it's already hiding.
Turn the wind. Where are you going?
Round the river, purring,
gnaws the earth and rolls.

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