Plea to the Wind

Alice Oswald

Describe the Wind, 

                        Wind!

Say something marked by discomfort

That wanders many cities and harbours,

Not knowing the langauge.

Be much travelled.

Start with nothing but the hair blown sideways

And say:

            Gentle

                       South-easterly

                                  Drift

                       With Rain.

Say: Downdraught.

Unglue the flog from the woods from the waist up

And speak disparagingly of leaves.

Be an old man blowing a shell.

Blow over the glumness of a girl

Looking up at the air in her red hood

And say:

                         Suddenly

                                     Violent

                                          Short-lived

                                     Gust.

Then come down glittering

With a pair of ducks to rooftop.

Go on. Be North-easterly.

Be enough chill to ripple a pool.

Be a rumour of winter.

Whip the green cloth off the hills

And keep on quietly

Lifting the skirts of women not wanting to be startled

And pushing clouds like towers of clean linen

Till you get to the

                         Thin

                              Cry

                         That 

                              Suffers

                 On seas.

Ignore it.

Say Snow.

Say Ditto.

Wait for five days

In which everything fades except aging.

Then try to describe being followed by heavy rain.

Describe voices and silverings,

Say:

           Strong

              Wet

       Southwester

From December to March.

Describe everything leaning.

Bring a tray of cool air to the back door.

Speak increasingly rustlingly.

Say something winged

Om the branch of the heart.

Say:

               Song.

Beacsue you know these things.

You are both Breath

             And Breath

And your mouth mentions me

Just at the point where I end.