Teach me why the wind hides,
In the precious spaces of the world,
To tempt crisp leaves into flight.
In all things, be my guide,
And guide me further than my sight.
Teach me why glass smiles,
In long, straight white lines,
Which seem to mock and,
Torment all the while,
And all the while hides its edge.
Teach me why words are lonely.
Each combination too far from truth,
And too close to clarity.
Words are words and words are only,
Only the shape and colour of the wind.