One Corner

The wind passes at breakneck speed.
There could be a storm coming,
but for now
the wind is unaccompanied by
rain, thunder, lightening.

It pushes specks of dirt,
watches for a corner to grab,
make it sing.
It has no voice without
a corner to bend around 
or leaves to shake like maracas.
It has no voice when it's alone.

It tries to whisper,
call the corners to it.
They don't come.
So it races to find them,
searches for something
to slow down its breakneck pace
and release its wail
before the neck is broken and the wail
lost in stillness.

It moves unnoticed by ground or sky.
Airplanes past on a solitary quest
for one corner
on a round world.

Trina Stolec


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