Chinook wind

i

hold holy to this dirty world

say confession to the Chinook wind

let the words blow free as cold crust of white

pried back by sun and sky and light

what is a changing

if not its own peculiar miracle?

ii

hold holy to handrails

despair licks up from under bridges

where it hangs

slicks over sides when you look down

empty air calls your fragile body

to the heaviness

of now and now

and now

iii

but hold

grace in you

the fluttering of warm in air

sudden silence of gone snow

grace is a peculiar beauty

as beauty is

laced

with how each thing will end

with how renewing will begin.