Who Listens To the Wind

Wind has wide mouth, Mouth like river pouring out, Clutching with an over-bite, Whispering closed to our antennas. Who possessed secrets? Enigma Nothing is cloak-and-dagger. We all have bad blood And breathe air thick with gossip Matters after closed doors Escaped through holes in small traps; Walls do tittle-tattle. Poison the spaces and passed on; Smother the likes of us with idle talk. We are much more Than monkeys, but we are plenty less. Chances fled yielding conceit. Feed the flame. Let it sear Old England, like London Bridge Burning down with our views. Tear down. Break off the passage And construct walls with the ashes. Let’s die alone while listening To the loud mouth of wind. Right hand lost in whispers. What wind is voiceless If it stretches from the seas?