Walked the dogs today
in the wind
around the park
empty, except for a few
city trucks
cleaning up the debris
of fallen branches.

And I remember:
last year
a woman was killed by
a branch
on just such a day as this
as her child played
in the sandbox.

The light flashes
through the leaves
on the empty park
and the dogs and I turn
to walk another path
carrying someone else’s
grief away with us as we
let the wind whip through
ears, through hair, through
memories.

and the grass along the street
sings it’s shushing song
as it slaps against the purple nettle thorns
and another city worker,
ears protected, attempts to
tame the median
with a weed-eater,
it’s drone carried away
with the grief
on the wind.

So hot and calm just two days ago
that the windows closed
and fans came on.
now, cool and chaotic
clouds boiling on the horizon.
a faint promise of rain
promise of life
and grace to come.

And, who has seen the wind?