To Emily Dickinson

a gap yawns sudden wide —
open breaks the world —
the blue air floods inside
the silk-spun dam — and hurls
the Wind the timbred songs
of leaves — wings still furled
now twitch, begin to long
to stretch out, ride the light —
breathe, O Wind — wide-flung
kindred ride the light,
from isles of brilliance call —
drying wings taste flight
in Sun-Wind — rise and fall,
flutter — rhythm more
than magic — Lord of all
breathes again — soar!