Am I the wind or the wind chime?

The tune or the tone?

 

Am I the push or the pull?

And who might like to know?

 

Is there a heart who beats for all?

And can you see her in the leaves?

 

Does the sun, here, shine for us?

Or is she only for the trees?

 

Am I the wind or I the river?

Be, the rock or be, the flame?

 

I, the warm that touches toes?

And must I choose a proper name?

 

How thick must my song drip

to speak straight through the source?

 

And will anyone answer

with anything

so elegant as a lady’s lace?

 

Or are hummingbirds mere happenings

of some peculiar force?

​

I ask with the knowledge of skin, here

on my face.