the wind and its prey

the wind twisted out of his grasp.
it slapped him across the face and soared high above.
strange that he smiled, don't you think?

his wizened face remembered
and then he vowed to claim as his own
the name of the wind.

and then he soared too, cloak spread wide.
he chased the wind, calling it by name.
but the wind fled, releasing countermeasures of mystery.

they flew high only for a moment,
and then dove for the trees,
ancient and inviting with upstretched peril.

the wind fled with abandon through branch and bramble.
the predator pursued despite the sure pain,
but all that mattered was to catch the wind

and claim it as his own, never to rescind.
so, he followed hard after his quarry
and despite the blood and rain,

he cornered the wind within a sealed hollow.
he called out its name and charmed it to come close.
and closely it came as he claimed its na--

too quickly it fled, then sealed him inside
the hollow without wind, the tomb with no name.
and for all of time he stared in dismay.

5 September 2008 by Glen Alan Woods