East Wind NaPoWriMo #7

        When I go, I want it to be

while the east wind is lowing

through the crack in the bedroom window.

At first, you think that sounds mournful.

 But really, such raw beauty

is quite companionable.

We’ll get along fine,

the east wind and me.  I love the expanse

of his unfathomable music.  He loves

the way I hear.

Listen for me among the fiddling branches

when the east wind roves free,

playing storms on wild November nights.

J. Pratt-Walter, © 2020