Wind

I’m hearing your voice, calling, Like a child learning to speak, A silver echo bubbling, thrumming Through the scattered leaves, whispering— Speak to me! Speak to me!

You rage in your soft laughter, Wind, spinning story around the bark, Pushing through the trees, a force, Engulfing silence and letting my dreams soar, Out at sea, riding the storm. You hold the ghosts of roots, it seems, A tempest of thoughts wasting away, Confounding what still reigns, what is still here. Chasing dreams of stars, Brushing through the dark until the breaks come forth As a wild broadcasting chorus of life, Emerging from the gloom.

• Ted Hughes