When the finger snapped off-
it was clearly too cold-
we should know better
than to walk
into the wind-
but - its the only way
to hear it sing.
Walking away from anything
is safe, but silent.
There's no song in retreat,
not even a hum.
So, with fingers tingling
we lay them on
the panel of the wind
and mightily play its keys-
'til the finger snaps, again.
