listen to the wind

Listen to the wind va-room va-room va-room,
with exhaust that ashes on white jasmine.
The groan of its engine washes out the welcome raven,
and the fumes that coat the Priuses make the palm trees sway their way.
Never mind the scraping rakes that used to come over carports, no,
hoist the blowers, make them loud and make them howl
and make the hummingbirds repeat themselves.
Hear the breeze as it learns to choke,
the billows as they always suffocate,
while PJ’s on repeat with the hopes that within the hour
calm will overcome the plumes of smog,
the patron saints of nothing can wander through their hilltop chapels once again
and wallow through the bellows of their hearts twinge
that come alive,
that come alive when listening to the wind.