A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -- A Wind that woke a lone Delight Like Separation's Swell Restored in Arctic Confidence To the Invisible --
Reading this poem feels like being let in on a secret. A wind rises, but it’s not the kind that rustles leaves or catches a bird’s attention. It stays entirely inward, a cold energy that seems to happen in a realm beyond the physical—somewhere deep inside the speaker.
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