This is just a little Wellington poem.
The wind wants to be a lizard.
It wants to lie down on a warm rock
with a tiny rustle,
a puff of dust,
and a little flick of the tongue.
The wind wants to be a dog.
It wants to stop when people say so,
it wants to be loved,
it wants to be allowed inside
in bad weather.
4th floor, 2011
