After Reading Whitman, Gathering Airs and Tasting the Garnishes

I am the wind the textured curl of clouds those specks of glitter silver and gold are my illustrative gleams the foiling wings that flutter and flap feathers ripe with color complementing all rosy hills a rolling kiss a splash of blush a dash of spicy dish the pepper and the salt of a morning's stirring serving see me in the meadows there where wildflowers overflowing bees and butterflies how they gaily bob take lick like little children at the serving tops of apples candied making funny faces where those more tart chasing rainbow tails the fond remnants of showers I made this day for you now do me honor save some acres from your cities and roads one or two at the least as I keep sacred your plot through the heavens