Wind?

Is it really so awful, the wind?
It's haunting howls give me peace.

As it goes from town to town ripping
up the earth and flinging it into
the air, I can't help but wonder,
when or where does it stop?

Does it eventually swindle into
nothing but a breath or does it
just stop so abrupt, we wonder if
God himself had shut the lid?

I love the wind. It rips me about
whipping my hair in my face until
my eyes water and my nose
bleeds. It picks me up and asks
me if I'd like to fly.

But I always say no and go inside.

Alone
          Without
                        Any
                                Air.
Without any wind.