watching the wind on the surface of the water
flattening the waves, plumping up the froth, shrapnel stipple pockmarking the surface
playful agog, then it is gone, to alight elsewhere, some capricious djinn
to be a sailor, when all is calm, idle, marooned on the placid expanse of ocean
to whistle for the wind, a gentle summoning, subterfuge, an act of sympathetic magic
tacit acknowledgement that the wind, with all its blustery pomp cannot be controlled
that when it wants, and only then, it will fill the slack sails with its burden brute force
i like wind because it is invisible! rejoice in the bleeding obvious, known only through its consequence
hung out washing dancing on the line,
a fire just as it catches, wind coaxed, the joyful fury as the wood surges into flame,
prayer flags, colourful, aloft, in the high himalaya, clap flapping their prayers to the heavens
else the augury of birds, a seagull that stalls, stukhas then slow dives to the waves
a hawk as it hovers, a subtle manipulation, the angling of bone, sinew and feather, miraculous stasis midst the roar
mastery. to blend with its element. grace

………. its fun, waking up, writing words and at the same time half heartedly perusing facebook! x

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