"A focus.
I mean, a compass.
Attempting to understand our renewal of winter
before we enter the dance.
Signing a contract to control the wind.
New arrivals wishing a ladle of the stuff.
On the phone, he asks, will you hold me like that again?
Track ourselves through the made up portion of a song.
We are the other side of transmitting sound
into future warmth.
Will you do it, he asks.
I've got the wind in my hands, I say.
With both hands."