Juggling The Wind

by Jeffrey Wright

A perfect herringbone sky rides high over
Herald Square, clouds feathered out
in wispy stripes, bisected by an uncanny
spine: the contrail of a southbound jet.
A ghost fish swimming on an azure map.

I am standing still, standing my ground.
Checking out what’s serene and sublime.
It’s my job to put a bell on beauty.
My duty is what’s keeping me around.
Looking up is a job. Looking up to you

is what I do. So listen up! It’s all good.
Just spurn the impure in your yearning.
Anyone can bask in the sun’s providence
but for you, my friends, I juggle the wind.