Far away two letters joined, formed a sound
the roaming winds swept up.
But now these winds shy away
from birds, from butterflies.
How softly they step—even in Spring!—
as they brood upon their billowing,
their new condition—pregnant winds!
Now their wailing assaults my ears.
They bang at my door.
They need me
but I stay quiet
and all the town’s Christs
remain silent, too.
We’ve been worried—but now we’re scared.
What are these winds
about to deliver?
What might the city lose?
What might it gain?