He wind chime hangs limp, soundless
Without wind, which planet spin imparts
Alone, the chime is parts inanimate.
Bring breeeeeeeeze the air bellowing sounds,
Sometimes harmonic and magic
Or discordant and grating as eighty grit.
In BIG WINDS effects are only degree,
All actions random, unplanned
Like lives of humans, accidents
Of forces beyond our knowing
We are spinning atoms and events moved
By cosmic winds of chance.
I hear the whippoorwill’s trill here
Know there is no message from life hear
Or lived, even imagination
Fails to nail meaning to sheer movement.