The Wind Shifts

Like air moved by air
Stirred by the Earth’s spin
And not like a soul

Who does not care. Wind
Can’t care. You knew that,
In your mind of snow,

Old man Tink-a-Tunk,
And you said so, who
Was more blunt than most

On what was not there.
But still you wrote this
Sad small poem on wind

That is not fooled, but
Still feels, is not still.
Was it a bad day?

Were you the wind pushed
By how you could not
Be you as you wished?