Olivia Franzen

A Letter to the Wind

Hello, friend. 

It’s good to feel you near again.

Your gentle kisses and familiar greetings 

leave me with the vaguest memories of your infinite being. 

Our love transcends the measurement of time;

yet I must write to you in this life.

The sonnets in the skies and choreography of calamity 

in the trees are the composition of your immensity:

The concerto of your capacity entices minds 

with lines that you have conducted through time. 

Symphonies of history ring in the acoustic space 

of your spirit; open for those willing to hear it.

Sensuous tones of untuned pianos from ignorance 

dispel the sound of humanities loneliness.

O, how you have kept us company through the dark stages

of monologues prompted from the despair of the human condition.

Your operatic voices clashes; the booming bass of our collective composition; 

misshapenly manifesting as a reminder of our poor perception.


Though the indiscriminate beauty of your aural vastness 

is evidence of your essence remaining.

The ignorance of your monument is this moments’ martinet

and I hope and pray that you stay with us again.