The wind which is so busy
Has time enough to listen to me
It goes everywhere moving everything
From leaves to pollen
Birds to boats
Delighting a child by making a paper cup dance across the street into a gutter drain

It hears me

What do I do with these things in me
These gifts for no one?
My czarless fabergé eggs
Once the property of a lady
Hers no more

The dust of a thousand things
Throw them into the wind
The inklings of one man
Scatter with the wind

On a leather jacket day
You might be walking
Something unsaid might come to you
You might think of me
Distracted as you are
A leaf hurls itself off a maple
The wind catches it before it hits the ground