wind, entropy, and the beauty of chaos

I can never help but despise

the wind, that force

that rattles and snaps against the sky,

that tangles the air in my mouth

and pounds the grit into my face,

as though to say –

billowing dust is all you’ll ever be,

(and often, I agree with the wind.)

when I ask,

the literature professor tells me

I’m missing the metaphor,

but the meteorologist

doesn’t see that much in it –

just reminds us on the radio that

it’ll be coming from the East at 40 kph –

and the biologist insists that

life requires order

and the chemist disagrees,

says that the entropy of the universe is increasing

and the physicist has

an equation that could explain

everything,  but it’s lost

under stacks of calculations and

lists of things not to forget, and

I’m left in the wind,

trying to see the beauty in chaos.

today,

though I still imagined

the smashing of particles and

the frantic motion of violent clouds,

and still couldn’t find

the symbolic implications of bad weather,

I tried to give this all a second chance, and

though the breeze was an icy,

tumultuous mess, I felt

my hair lift into the semblance

of a blonde dandelion,

and wondered (gladly)

if enough chaos could make my thoughts

flow outward, blow away

like white, umbrella-shaped seeds.

and then,

almost as if on cue,

the snow began to fall.