you are but a whisper on the lips of God.
          as a whisper, you pass on ever so soon,
          like a line of poetry written on the waters of creation.
          yet the greatness of a whisper is that it is passed on…
                    C.P. Thorp.

wind breathes the whole world to your face

all of it, all

imagine, imagine how that is

because, because it is real, it is

all that is, a catspaw whisper on your ears

it is touching the skin of your face

it is tasting your mouth, the inside of you

it is breathing, you

sahara dusting the sky.  that salt water forest cove that no one
yet has found or mapped.  that oak scrub hill down two blocks
when you were this much tall.  a field of unbound wheat visible
after climbing the western ridge.  that place where there is yet
only your feet for memory.  stone and salt and gulls inside the
wind.

your lovers kiss between the sheets.  your lover twenty years ago.
that baby you touched inside its damp eager grasp.

your mothers breath
 
 
 
neil reid
 
 

footnotes:
written for the EPIC poetry group prompt, wind.

this poem might be poetic.  this poem might seem to express a quiet eye.
but whatsoever else it might be – it is the simple literal truth.