The wind is wildly throwing
itself through the trees,
and the streets.
And the trees, they are bending and twisting.
Peyote dancers feeling into the world
beneath the world.
The sound is like the ocean
slamming itself against the steady shore.
Then the wind seems to inhale.
Silence.
Just like when the water goes from noisy simmer
to boil.
For a moment it’s quiet.
Then the papers fly off the tables and
the cat hides under the bed.
I can see the gold finches clinging
tenaciously to the feeder.
My legs stretch out.
And I wonder
who knows I’m here?