Boreas, The North Wind

Boreas, the North Wind

I walked along the sidewalk
watching cracks in the concrete
passing like years, thinking how dreary
and dull my life had become,
no purpose, no fury, no bliss
unaware of the gathering dark,

when I felt myself snatched
from the earth by a powerful gust
held between finger and thumb
slapped onto its back, I rode
a horse in the shape of the wind,

its fury slapping my face, pushing
against me with so much force
my legs flew out straight behind me,
while I struggled to hold my grip
on the horse's neck

as it galloped so light of foot
over fields of wheat, not bending
the heads of wheat, my grip
slipping on the horse's great neck,

thundering hooves over the ocean water,
flying over the white-capped waves,
lightning forming the backbone
of the runaway horse, so hot to the touch
that the skin on my legs blistered,

I at last could do nothing but let go
and ride the bolt of white to the ground
where it crackled and struck
with a sulfurous fury, and when I awoke,

Boreas stood over me with a sly smile,
asking if my life was still dreary
and dull, and though every bone
and muscle in my body screamed,
I jumped to my feet and ran like the wind.

-- Aurelio