The wind is telling secrets as it whispers through the night,
Chortling softly to itself at thoughts of folly’s plight.
It is not fierce, it is not cruel, in judging our concerns
Just relentless in its whispering, “When will they ever learn?“
Allow this soft admonishing to catch you in its breath
And lift you skyward forcefully to spiral overhead
To lurch and toss directionless in fate’s unanchored dread
Then plummet earthward, helpless, in imagined throes of death.
Only then to pull up short and change its course instead
And gently ~ oh so gently ~ set you, windswept, down to rest.
Where cares are of no consequence and fear is but illusion,
Nestled in the blessed arms of total absolution.