The Perfect Hollow

The Perfect Hollow

(For M.R.C.)

I am the wind,

And the wind must move along

According to my own path,

And whistling my own song.

But when I nestled in the hollow of your heart

Circulating in that vase like cavity,

It brought me right back

To the very start


Between your gracious curves

And the arches of your little feet

I found the perfect place to have a seat,

And as I ran my crystalized fingers

Over the smooth sandstone walls

Of your gently sloping breast

That’s when I discovered

The hollow I love best.


Each bend in the winding canyon

A fold in your orange summer dress

And under trembling cottonwood leaves 

With whispers I caressed

The surface of your burbling brook,

And there inside your little nook

I found that I could happily linger,

Indeed I’ve been heard playing there

At least since last December


But now its February

And I must breeze away

Though there is no other place

Where I would rather stay,

So like the driving monsoon rain

I’ll be heading down the valley

Through alluvial arroyos

Across the rocky plain

Whistling through saguaro’s spines

Out towards the long West Texas mane,


Where I suppose I’ll try to have some fun

Slamming open barn doors

And letting nervous horses run,

Sweeping through the hills of Lobo

Through long abandoned ranches,

Knocking pecans down

From off their crooked branches,

Kicking tumbleweeds and lifting dusty devils 

Spinning rusty windmills

And letting lonesome ravens 

Fall across my shoulder


But I will be pained too

And over distant moors

I will keen, and weep, and wail,

And over northern seas propel

The sailor’s well-hemmed sail,

And as I cut across a cold Atlantic crest

I will recall the warmth of your gentle canyon,

The only place where I could rest.


Eventually I must return

When the Coriolis effect

Brings be South and West

And I will know I’m home

When a red tail hawk

Sails across my sun warmed chest,

Then I’ll be seeking, ever seeking,

That perfect hollow,

Where even the wind felt at home.


And if it is nowhere to be found

And eludes sight, and touch, and sound,

I will begin to carve it into the ground

And over millennia I will shape

That lovely sandstone canyon once again

For the wind is forever child

And my love, it has no end.