What the Wind Whispers —James NavéForever and without trouble, I start now. No force or struggle,swimming along, no knots. I tap at your door. Will you join me? Let's go down the willow path, past the old trees that understand, troubled yesterdays When the dance comes in time, without the will of fierce wind, I will tell you about the secretthat visits me often coming through the window. Here's what the wind whispers. “fire will do when you crack the young flowers open in the blue whale rain that falls from days gone by.” When will I be able to say I belong to the rain? Who will check on me, kiss me when spring comes after the long cold? Take me to the first party before the sky goes white like old bones left alone on the side of a hill where cougars roam and stars pop out at dusk. I wish I had more time to tell you about what I did this morning, when I rose early, still dark, no sound—late stars in the sky. I walked to the kitchen, made a coffee, then sat down, alone like some small blue whale floating in the air.