ASHES ON WIND

As wood turning to ash
he makes nothing out of something
Something that would not be
if he hadn't imbued it with life
then drawn it away
releasing its power
A sweet nothing blown on the wind

Oddly enough
He hit it on the head
hammer on tentpeg
Spiking our kinship to the ground

It's a good note to leave on
to pack up the things
that don't really matter
Douse the fire
Pull the stakes
Watch as the tent floats to the ground
And move on

He's moving on now
Sideways step by sideways step

It looks as though
he'll never return
or pass this way again
With a map or without one
'Cause the clouds call his name
as they call others' names

But he-
He hears them
and follows