The Wind's Call

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When I was younger and had hair on my head I would curse the wind.
A wispy annoyance disheveling my delicately-arranged coiffure.
Today, though, with my scalp as baron as a clear cut Amazon forest,
I worry not of such trivialities.
Now, I lucidly hear the wind's call in my older years.
Are the God's of nature still trying to tell me a story?
Should I have listened to them long ago?
Even so, I feel her angry voice breathing in strong gales
off of the bay at night.
Her tender touch dimples my bare arms.
When the leaves blow I now take notice.
An animal's keen intuition is not always required.
We should not be taken by surprise when nature gets pissed
at us for sullying her home.
She has warned us for generations, we just need to listen,
hair or no hair.

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