Wind Chime
July 23 2010


My wind chime is bamboo
cut from some Far Eastern forest,
light, and strong.
So not so much chime, or gong
but a pleasant hollow note,
that makes me think of unimproved nature,
the fragrance
of fresh-cut hay.

In a gentle breeze
it’s a marimba,
and when the wind is up
a full gamelan orchestra,
exotic notes
spilling into spruce-filled air.

I imagine it was made
in some makeshift factory in China,
where bamboo is trucked-in by the trailer-load,
and the air is choked
with bamboo dust, varnish,
the high-pitched whirr of saws.

But here, it tolls softly,
damping down the strongest blow
with inertial calm,
a perennial grass
that will likely outlast
this captive listener.
A down-to-earth philosopher,
meditating on wind.