Sweet Nothing
I trapped the wind that made
dust dervishes dance in the back yard
Lured it into a sack with the promise
it could create a storm.
I hit the sack with a
hammer this for
hammer this for
the wind had stolen my hair
and made me bald as an American eagle.
And Silvio works for me.
I beat the sack until the wind died.
and it got unbearable hot without
a cooling breeze.
I opened the sack and the winds was
blue as a Parisian afternoon.
Windmills and zephyrs will they ever be still?
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