Swiftness of Wind

Stone walls made of irregular limestone slabs leave gaps through which the wind can blow. If you’ve been there on a windy day, you know what I mean. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Swiftness of Wind

When wind wishes wall stones to whisper

she coaxes them with gentle breaths.

Whisking only gentle stirrings

through nitches in limestone flats.

Hot, still days you walk Green Road,

barely hear such quiet sounds,

even with ear to wall,

no audible gossip or innuendos

just “oohs”, “ahs” and “whooshes”:

germs of conversation.

When wind wishes wall stones to speak full sentences,

she blows across their wrinkled faces,

with tremulous turbulence.

One stone chatters to another,

whistles here, hums there,

never a ribald roar or shout.

You begin to make out phrases,

clauses, statements, hints of meaning

without straining your ear to understand.

When wind wishes wall stones to pontificate,

upon life’s troubled state,

her gales buffet through nitches, across faces, 

come from all directions at once

downdrafts slap, updrafts bite

all stones shout out loud,

then groan, then keen, then sing

a boisterous chorus of many voices

sometimes as harmonious as a choir,

sometimes cacophonous and angry.

You might hear their messages

though they’re miles away.

-taken from a collection of poems called “St. Patrick’s Breastplate”