Here, the speaker is out in a strong wind—likely running—and instead of fighting it, he lets it carry him. He calls himself a tongue in the wind’s mouth, a mouse in its pocket, or a weasel, depending on the sound and force of the air around him. After seven minutes he is still grinning because he has stopped resisting. The poem turns into a small wish: let his body be sun-browned and turned into music made of muscle, ready to rise when love beckons him toward an “exit that’s an entrance to sky kingdoms.” The mood is giddy, physical, and open-hearted. The ending says it plainly—he wants to be a single note inside the wind’s wild, mad song.
Tom Tac's Running Sonnet — Summary
Like I'm a tongue in the mouth of the wind; In my face or at my back it moves me, A mouse in its pocket, or a weasel According to what present song it sings, Low and limpid, high or hollowly. It's seven minutes now; I'm still grinning Since no breath opposes in all this whirlwind.
Let this my hide be brown sun gold. Let this My body make a melody in muscle, Elevated quick when love crooks her thumb To the exit that's an entrance to sky kingdoms. As long as any snuff of wind can tone a whistle To thrilled ears, I'm a note in that mad chant.