The wind
is silence 
until something 
gets in
the way 
then it
makes noise 
but is
it the 
wind that 
really does 
or is 
it the 
thing that’s 
standing in 
its way 

Oh I feel 
like Capistrano where
swallows return every 
year to roost
to mate and 
make babies and 
then off they 
go once more 
I guess someone 
has to stay
be the port
or harbor or
cliff so that 
others can return 
once in awhile 

Find peace 
establish comfort 
set fence 
make gate
welcome others
and those 
who come 
be warned 
that past
this point 
your drama 
and chaos 
remains outside 
with shoes
for this 
my friends 
is known 
as sanctuary 

Love cuts
in many 
different directions 
but it’s 
only the 
true ones
that bleed

No matter what 
you try to 
do no matter 
how many times 
they always leave 
and here I 
sit thinking if
maybe might have 
I could have 
should have did 
or didn’t do 
that it makes 
me dizzy but 
no matter they
always do leave 
onto something else 
that maybe someday 
I will understand 
until then this 
heart which once 
had been brimming 
sits broken and 
wrung out like 
a dish rag 
ready for washing