To Walk with the Wind

I can’t walk. Not well.
My life limps, has limped

All ways, all my days.
But I take your point—

At least I hope so.
You would know. You’ve crossed

The bridge of the wind.
The wind is a thing

You know can’t be still
And still be the wind,

And still be no thing
But all the moved things

Who sing in the wind,
The talk of the trees,

Low notes in the hills,
The tones of Zhuang Zi.

To walk with the wind
Means to bend and lean.