By naming a thing, we begin to understand it.
It becomes solid, becomes real. We can say
it is the wind, remembering we named it
once before. We can call out for love,
having heard another cry its name.
I begin. I understand a little
and let the wind find its way through me, naming
it in my heart. Tell me your name and we
may converse, you and I, the wind and love.
Stephen Brooke ©2015