Olivia Franzen
A Letter to the Wind
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.