Everyone's Sister

She has the wind in her hair, winter, spring summer, fall. The wind sings her name. Her name is on the tip of the tongue. She is light. She is a shadow in the back of the mind. She’ll do anything for you for a song. She doesn’t want to sing at karaoke, she wants to dance. Her eyes are pools of water, hot-blooded men tell her. She blushes and offers a wave. She lives just down the street from everyone. Older couples like to talk about her over coffee. She is the salt of the earth, golden shafts of wheat waving in wind. She walks her dog, and it sits in front of you, wagging its tail. Doves circle above her head. She gives me a book, and I read between the lines. I hold her hand.