*2 Maybe nothing deserves to be thing-ified in any way whatsoever, by a human mind. ... and that is likely the only place such a crime can occur. Maybe scaled judgements of superiority, better or worse etc., based on whether a being has a face or a CNS or is even a being, as opposed to a phenomenon or an un-silhouetted moment, maybe all this could be cast out altogether. It's surprising how limiting limitations can be (????)! (Me)
the wind
remembers *things that happen on earth. To her, there are no
nouns ...
events, phenomenal intention, internal/external invention etc. et al
...all are all beings.
she guides me to speechless interface with so many parenthetical unnameable's, she allows intervention in a heart raw human for such moments to uncouple from thoughts burdensome appraisal.
she brings me
at least one a day -
gifts i shall call them, i suppose,
or "friends" with which i people my world.
... only if i am alert and remember to wait:
a deaf mute witness,
seeing only what the blind can hear
speak
reverent heresy, she brings me
other's deleted beauty as if it were my own
and she brings me my own as if it belonged
always already to all beyond any sense of "me" be
cause she is the wind
and she brings me
1). a bi plane red and leaning on the blue grey low flying.
i didn't know what ...biplane%202.jpg)
biplane%202.jpg)
looking up and ...
drag%20draw.jpg)
heard it first.
i mean, you don't see them very often anymore.
2). a butterfly landing two steps ahead of my left footfall on
the gravel path where i walked
her wings were
breathing
slow
deeply
and
at least in part
i was her breath.
the road itself.
3).
gravel
that shifting sound
dirt and stones - the word" pebble" .jpg)
.jpg)
shuffle
beneath stepping
what would you call it ...
a sort of crunching? onomatopoeia collaboration -
step munching.
you can't take just one,
and I'd walk all days on unmarked backroads
if only to feel that sound
just now
and again. now. while i go
nowhere.
4). a very dark large dragonfly, not the streamlined thin blue kind
he was a drunk stunt
plane weighed down
by perspective and his own fuel tanks.
he companioned me without coincidence
for a hand full of minutes. lengthened longer than they were - threading loopy. grim halos around the rims of my concern -
setting me free
to return to
the song of my feet until in
sudden upslope he 
Icarused into the sun.
5). 3 silver christmas tree ornaments clustered
below eye level
on one pine tree
in August
on my backroad journey
right there dab smack
on the middle one
a big ol' son of a gun grasshopper sat in compartmental sway.
i was happy to see him,
awed by his back leg- rare as a biplane, big and spring loaded,
i believe we made eye contact 
glance snagged, pulled into a longer gaze in soft chaotic space suspended
through a butterfly's 1/2 breath
swallowed by an hourglass - a grain at a time halved and again halved each grain containing stillborn laughter and the matrix blueprint for every sandcastle from some late noon kingdom across a shifting makeshift beach where the world we made,
then made us
and allowed us graced entrance -
and allowed us graced entrance -
built and erased in a half breath halved and again halved
i felt the splash of my own brite heart
the son and moon gilded tide brought me back to myself
beneath a shroud of
6). certain storm clouds
attracting dark feathered wings
in cavalcades of
shade
shadow-callused, shadowed caw, dimmed in thunderclap
shadow-callused, shadowed caw, dimmed in thunderclap
the only escape, lightening's inaudible call
inviting you
yes, just slip through a brief entry toward some
rare other side don't hesitate you may
not get another chance to
and may not ever return from
too late
now gone and lost in the ho hum
though a lingering message,
just like the dove ....
the right crow can also symbolize love 
P.S.
...There are no wrong crows .
"The mundane is sacred. The sacred is mundane." Michael Stone.
