Heraclitus and Wind in the Trees

 

There is perhaps a moral law within us, but nothing like the wind out there

and I mean nothing. I stood in a shadow at sunrise 

a darkness on my wrist joints, knuckles, open palms 

the evening’s chill all around. There is not much 

between a person and the wind. We walk with a song on our lips 

and one sound overtakes another what with the breeze. 

For a helpless moment I thought I was the world.