Pall Comes Down with the Rush of a Storm

The wind blew hard all night.
The wind blows hard at dawn.
It does not mean a thing.

Words, one at a time, mean
More than the wind’s whole storm.
It’s just that what we mean,

All of us, all at once,
May have carved up the world
But lacks for the force

Of the spin that makes wind,
The star that burns the spin,
The night where it all ends.