The Wind
by Adrian Slonaker
The Kingston Trio crooned about
calling the wind Maria
(rhyming with “pariah,”
which is how I feel
when responsible
social distancers
shy away with shunning eyes),
and I greet the gust
as a gift when it
wiggles and whispers
outside my open window,
beckoning me to
welcome it on my balcony where it
will caress my ungloved
fingers and unmasked face
because infection will not be spread
from it to me
or from me to it.
The breeze will bathe my eyes
and lips with mist pilfered
from the fading drizzle or
send me the scent of
blossoms from
gardens beyond fences like
so many other barriers
built or bolstered
since Ash Wednesday.
But nature nixes vacuums,
so when human touch
becomes taboo,
faithful zephyrs will fill the voids.
—-
Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee Adrian Slonaker is fond of opals, owls and fire noodles. Adrian’s work has been published in WINK: Writers in the Know, Ez.P.Zine, Page & Spine and others.