WIND REMEMBER the wind blowing the winter I was 11 is still blowing it is not blowing here this is not the wind I remember its cousin its niece or nephew maybe perhaps an unacknowledged child that now bangs on my window expecting recognition or just a little time to come in but my door is shut against it I turn from the windows I remember my wind I will have no other it was so cold it damaged snow it tore off a red piece of sunset and threw it away it crawled under my hat and up my sleeves everywhere it went it hummed to itself while I listened to that freezing music there in the attic the rafters and shingles began to dance with each other the furnace cleared its throat to be asked to join but fire was the furthest thing from that wind and all who danced with it it has found in some arctic sea one who truly loves it it lives in happiness there where the night does not end wind remember me! I was smaller than you and warmly dressed though not warmly enough I loved being made cold because my heart beat faster and I could take my cold feet to the grate in the kitchen and stand there till they told me not to hog the heat and gave me potato soup and sandwiches