WIND

The air is absolutely still
on this cool late autumn day
and such a cloudless crystal blue
one sneeze could blow it all away

It's Thanksgiving and the limbs are bare
each tree a sketch of varied gray
save scattered green cedars and pines
where the finches flit and play

Far shore's reflected on the pond
standing the whole world on its head
where the red hawks soar inverted
and rising sun turns the ground red

Calm air makes all sounds so loud
even beatles rustling in the duff
are detected by any with ears
if one listens close enough

And all the fields of grain and sedge
standing motionless and straight
seem tense with anticipation
like runners at the starting gate

All outdoors is waiting for
the quiet and stillness to end
and the end will surely come
with arrival of the wind