Wind Song

there is a silence

I’ve heard it at 3 a.m.

the soft hum of nothing

a dove eases herself before me

anticipation — knocking at a door

something touches the calm

the flutter of wings

collecting sounds of flight

and filling the room

kites in the sky

paper planes in the wind

leaves to rising hands

a statue of silence, given life

as a choir wakes

a whispering church

her wings return

to her side

like tired eyelids

and soon she moves

with the easy

sweeps of the dove

within the yawn of our sky

the hands, the rippling scales

stop cradling …

the dove leaves the piano

and I listen

the wind of a song

escapes the room

to rain in the sunshine

silence drifts asleep

kites,

In the store

paper planes,

in a notebook

leaves,

on the ground

the wind plays the trees

a gentle humming begins