I spoke to the Wind last night...

The rain tapped rigorously on my skylight's
cloudy glass panes in the kitchen
Like little chocolate brown pixies all knocking
At the same time to bring me news from my Guardian Angle
It was midnight in the city that never sleeps
Another cold, windy wintry night this 13th Sunday of February
My two bedroom flat was pitch black
Except for the city streetlights giving a golden glow
to the living room I sat so calmly in
The candles flickered
No windows were open
No wind blew
But the yellow ardor flashed and twisted violently
Still no wind blew
I watch the flame dance
And Bow
It sparked
And raise its head
Stopped
And began to dance again
But still no wind blew
The lights from the passing cars drove on the top of my ceiling
I used to watch them when I was a child
And I would jump on the sliding light
And it would take me to the moon and beyond
The room was still
The cream colored candle still burned atop the mantle fireplace
But it was silent
It was too quiet in the Rotten Apple
And then a brisk breeze blew through the living room
My skin was riddle with goose bumps from the unsuspected chill
But the flame stood still
The wind sat next to me on the couch
I know because my side of the cushion shifted because of her weight
She whispered sweet nothings into my ear
She told me how she danced across the Northern Light
How she glided along side unsuspecting passengers
on international flights
How she combs her hair every night
through the peaks of the mountains along
The western shore of the African Coast
She said how she had missed the people of Turtle Island
Because they use to talk to me
They don't anymore
She asked me where'd they go
I said I don't know
So calm so cool
She caressed the back of my neck
Lady Wind was nothing like I'd expect
She sung me a song
Its strange, somehow I new the words, and hummed along
The flame danced for us
She applauded, the flame bowed
Then as swift as she came she was gone
The rain tapped at my windowsill
The candlelight danced no more
tap...tap...tap...