Wind sweeps

Wind has swept another cotton ball up the alley
crisply rolling, sometimes; now
where does the wind go?
Where it takes leaves
after the sunstorms flush out humid drops
is the wind's whim.
No dust is misplaced. No dust wonders.
Going with the gentle push
or winding swaggers of gusty currents
stopping at the crevices.
No dust is good or bad. No crevice a trap.
Trusting the wind as the breath of flutes
careen songs into the heart; blissful
exchange of purpose and destination.

Clasping the crashing mites along the journey.