Like a Wild Thing
by Vaughn Neeld

You cannot hold the wind; it rushes,
romps, chases anything there is
to flee before it–newspapers,
trash bags, twigs, flaccid autumn leaves.
Fences only delay its gay force;
it strains supporting posts
squeezes through knotholes,
cracks, crannies.

You cannot bail out the wind,
or suck it up, or slap it with a
flyswatter. You cannot compel
it with reason or appeal to its vanity.
The wind is a law unto itself.
You cannot constrain it
however you might try.
You simply cannot hold the wind.



 

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