The trees outside my window
animatedly discuss the wind.
I used to like wind.
Now it drains me.
Too many storms, I guess,
and no place to hide from them.
I watch the kids and their kites
exploring hidden boundaries.
I kind of miss when wind was
the highway for my soul.
The wind passes my window,
thumb extended, going where it will.
I close the drapes, turn on my lamp,
and listen to the stories of the wind.