when i am old and the wind asks me

as if taking advice
from the movement of greening willow branch,

chartreuse sproutly proudness flex and flocking,

i learn to follow the wind
all in one directly:
full, deep bough-breaths of strands-in-wind.

so when i love you,
let it be like kelp in ocean all moving leeward then land
ward let me pulse
and not pause in staccato ratio-(bana)nality

keeping on moving sliding gliding glowing
flowing fluffing flighting alighting sipping flipping
kiting spriting lefting righting
not one but only one of a thrillion shimmering
butterflies on a monarching tree
in warming climes, climbing northwards
as the sun moves, toward the sun

flowing-fluff and tilting
with the wind and flowing-moving-
toward the warmth

when i am old and the wind asks me
if i have stayed true to the flowing sunward basking
she will have to keep going
to touch me, for i will be faithful
and being both one-with-cloud riding the bareback
of her, wind, i will also be just ahead there
near where the moon (the night sun) is rising, skate-breath-surfing
on the limn where day is turning
flowing
into night
night
night

she will never catch me to ask
what i have become


27 mars 42011