It was one of those days
where the whole world breathed quietly
except for the wind which
made its wrath to be known.
Doors were knocked on, and pushed open;
café tables turned sideways, garden gnomes
toppled over from the wind’s desire to
be heard and seen. The neighbor’s boyfriend
was back that night, wearing the smile of a victor
although we all suspected he might be gone again
by the week’s end. And he was.
The wind, meanwhile, was faithful enough
to keep its threats, and blew the poor recycle bin
three houses down the street. It must have slid
across the ice without much dignity. We found it
leaning wearily against the fence of the blue house
where the retired English teacher lived.