When the three step out into their very different days,
two covered in grime, one cleanly forgetting his tie to them, the same
breezes brush against their worries. The winds always come
across these plains and find us in our divergent lives.
From the west they wrestle, frolic, whisper secrets with
the breath of the gulf, the skirt of the arctic. Air from across
the continent comes with grains of sand from western mountaintops
to drop on our ancient seabed, with travelers who settle,
with seeds looking for soil, with promises ready
to sprout or whither depending on the season’s mood.
— Jamie Lynn Heller