Wind

I

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know. What winds blow And lift me would hurl The world past my window.

II

Wind is like a tree, breathing, stretching Out its wooden arms that sway, Its fingers on the sky. I hurl myself into it And the trees bow to my mayhem And moan to me.

III

Wind brings the wild hunger, The cry of a thousand birds, The treble of voices, Sensation, life, a passion, This pulse of the earth weaving cycles._

IV

It is nature’s press against me, That satisfaction of mountain moves, And I feel my own bones stir,941 Filling the echo of its roar.

• Ted Hughes