Offshore Wind, November

This deserves to be alone:
the strong north wind, southeast sun
pushing pink and orange clouds
up above the blue horizon;
the light on the far island
winking in solitude;
the leaves frantic in the streets.
But I am with it, no fault of mine,
fully charged.

If there were a way to touch ground,
to join the wind as a spark,
I would reach out to it,
Adam's finger to the deity.
I am only slightly foreign—
only, this morning,
just barely out of place here,
and close enough, close enough.

The leaves whirl around my feet;
my breath joins the slipstream.
It’s all wind and sun and leaves.
I have such small business here,
but let it be enough, the same as one gust,
one leaf, one spin, any or all.

Blow on, spiral and rise,
rise up in blue, sensate, you glories,
as we all pass through together.

DL