I.Wind’s the medium of air.
It says what in the air’s
stasis we’d never hear.
In the sibilation of its leaving
it says what air would say
(the kinesis of that silence)
if stationary¹ atmosphere
could scrape, stridulous,
itself against its unmoving self.
                                       II.Wind’s air
that sensed a near
hollow in the pressureand poured
toward that rising stratum²
to hold it fast: a depressionin the balance
of things it had to changeitself to fill.
                                       III.Still air’s
wind that had its way, inrushed, unemptied
what was left, then settled
into the lull³ it was, its
constituent⁴ quiescence:immotive, as if straining
not to quiver toward each new
instability of heat along the edges—
the still of its want; the want
motivating all its still.