The wind descends like a great bird
from the clouds, its wing beats
shake the dust from the grass,
whips up spirals of sand and leaves.
The wind refreshes the trees
by shaking them by their trunks,
brushing their hair for loose strands
and twigs, sprucing up the trees.
The wind sweeps all the grit
into the corners of the bridge
and pushes the water like dough,
plucking loose feathers from birds.
The wind ushers those on the bridge
closer together, and carries the fearful
and those with appointments, home.
The wind has no respect for invisible borders.