Know that the wind can move
you. Fill you. That scar of sound
past the window can swell the lungs
without breath’s permission. Stir
the soul. Buoy the curious, outstretched
palm. The kind of air you’d only breathe
once. And the roadside doesn’t look too
bad either: a pulled taffy blur of broken
asphalt. Mountain Big sagebrush, dirt. How
delicious, glistening, tactile–just think
–to feel it all in one simple tuck and roll.
