The windy sea of summer

For two weeks now the wind won’t stop

Feels like a sea is constantly moaning at your windows

A sea of trees sending waves of air that cross my apartment spreading widely my curtains

They won’t stop dancing

They move like thousands ghosts intoxicated by drugs

Somewhere in the building doors slam

Perhaps someone wrote a symphony and instead of drums he used doors this season

From time to time a tzunamy of sirens rushes on the boulevard

You skip a heart beat, death in a tiny tin vehicle passes by

I wonder how loud the noise is in that recipient

I wonder if that terrible sound scaries away the virus

And then the wind delivers the final blow

so the summer could end in silence

I started this poem to whine about the wind and how its gusts startles my dog

How, for some nights now, dog and owner chase a moment of silence

But somewhere in the middle, the sirens stole my poem away and in their high pitch note dug all the silences under the rug

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