The Wind

she whispers at the mouth of the canyon,
trickling like water over rocks, whispering
as one  lover to another in a sacred place.
She-wind spills out onto the plain,
expanding, roaring, enraged at
the emptiness of this open space,
dotted with cold angular buildings,
the concrete,steel and glass offer no solace to
this angry wind determined to knock
it all down, the roar growing louder
and louder as she approaches the center,
I hear her as I lie in bed, the crescendo of
wind, I feel a breeze across my face as
she penetrates double-pane windows,
I hold her in respect.