The Wind is Surely Asking Something

The wind is surely asking something;

it raps meekly on my old window.

Should ever I deign to answer it,

I fear where it might ask me to go.

*

To follow it upward, heaven-bound?

To trek across hell-scapes, below?

To bear brothers-in-arms back homeward?

- or to leave my own mind-currents' flow?

*

To sing with it tunes upon glaciers?

To weep with it, 'longside a willow?

To dance with it across the deserts?

- to invite you, dear friend, to follow?

*

Mayhaps she seeks only company;

Open port, to alight, as a crow,

and kindness proffered to a stranger

too rare, the hospitable home's glow.

*

She could shatter the glass like nothing.

*

The wind is surely asking something;

it raps gently on my old window.

Should ever I deign to answer it,

I wonder where it might ask me to go.