A Breeze

So much can

ride in on a

breeze.

Dandelion seeds:

carrying secret

wishes.

The smell of pancakes:

Blueberry, buttermilk

on a Sunday morning.

This one, this climatic

anomaly, centrifugal

energy,

it pushes

and pulls me so.

The air it brings-

Is it laced with smelling salts?

I am so alive when it dances by.

It can speak in whispers,

tingle my skin,

the back of my neck.

Or whip across my face,

throw sand

in my eyes,

steal my breath,

force me

to turn away.

I can't forecast it,

or tame it;

There is no shelter

in which to hide.

All I can do is stand,

and face forward

as it

enduringly

blows on.