if i waited for you
would you reach me before I hurled myself off
the side of one Brooklyn's hills
in a howling gale. Would you heal me
before the rush of air sends me skyward out over the Cook Strait
like an albatross looking for its mate?
Would the wind's whistle thrill you if it upended me
& I was jettisoned over the harbour (it would me)
I would love to spin on my axis over Roseneath
and swoop and swoon like an uncontrollable kite
can you see now, what the wind does to me
when it thrustles through the trees of Kelburn
& why I feel so ethereal in this weather?
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