The Wind Traveler (With Salt And Sand In Her Pocket) Poem by Evelyne Blevins

I trust that it will carry on somewhere,

the dry wind of summer that whispers

through hair and skin and every sin,

on to amber autumn and cold purple winter.

It is not a lover of Shakespeare's haven,

neither a foe in Homer's tales,

but I trust it will carry on somewhere

and carry me within its sails.


Across the lands and vast open waters

to the evergreen forests that never do turn,

above the sands that grow ever hotter,

that without wood or fire continue to burn.

The heart desires the sight of ice

the kind cracking, falling, and eternally standing

that under infinite measures of the sky

do not expect a human's understanding.

I trust it will carry on somewhere,

the dry wind of summer that whispers,

but it carries nothing but my thoughts

on to amber autumn and cold purple winter.

~EB~