Where the Wind Lives


She is obsessed with March

and rebellious hair,

flying cloud stallions

and scattered green mists:


this wind,

this second skin

we all share on a 

day like today, and with

no questions—

we want to be each other


when this fizz of diamond wisdom,

our sheet of crisp knowing

romps the way we all should

though the wilds 

of imagination,


and you can know it also in

the words of a friend

who sees the universe in you,

gives you back 

to yourself

like an anointed gift


you always had, 

but faith made it real


because friendship is the

wind's endless home—


sometimes a swim through 

froths of stars,

sometimes ghost wings 

breathing on water,

and sometimes our own 

heart churning on a storm 

that named itself 

both Mother and Fear,

vanquished and conqueror:




As we all are.


We just needed to hear it

from God one more time,


in the words of friend,

in the music that

is heard 

without ears. 


Patricia Joan Jones




Author's Notes/Comments: 

For Starward, whose encouragement has kept me writing. Please read his amazing work.

View patriciajj's Full Portfolio
word_man's picture

a gift of inspiration

a gift of inspiration

ron parrish

patriciajj's picture

Thank you for your beautiful

Thank you for your beautiful feedback. 

word_man's picture

you`re welcome pat

you`re welcome pat

ron parrish

Cascade's picture

I for one, am delighted that

I for one, am delighted that someone has inspired you to keep writing ! Your words are anointed gifts for my soul. You sit at the gateway between the visible and the invisible, Patricia, and you give it a voice. Your words bring me back to myself as someone else's has done the same for you. In this way Artists inspire artists to be better, truer...even grateful, versions of who they are. This is heartwarming and outstanding!

patriciajj's picture

There's no greater reward

There's no greater reward than to know that I, in any small way, helped someone on their inner journey. I'm overwhelmed by your beautiful feedback. Many, many thanks. 

Starward's picture

Sorry I could not comment on

Sorry I could not comment on this when you posted it; I plead a brief session of flu, and ask your forgiveness.  This poem is magnificent, in all the ways that distinguish your most distinctive and consistent style.  Your poems reminds me of symphonies---a consistent form, yet amazing variations within that form.  I think this style should be called PATRICIAN, and no one, but no one, can make it work like you do.  Your memorable phrases ("froth of stars"---I love it, and it so describes what nebulae do).  I will say here, about you, a variant of what Pound said about Eliot in 1965:  READ HER!  Read the PATRICIAN style and it will not just impress you profoundly, it will minister to your soul.


[* /+/ ^]

patriciajj's picture

I say thank you, but it

I say thank you, but it doesn't seem long enough, bright enough, omnipotent enough, serious enough. It doesn't rain down like confetti or erupt in the sky or burst into a crescendo of music as it should, but I feel it just the same. Thank you, and thank you. 

Starward's picture

And thank you for the

And thank you for the addition of the dedication---much appreciated, although I have done little to have earned it.  Your graciousness is also part of your distinction as a Great Poet.


[* /+/ ^]

Morningglory's picture


Thank you for continuing to share your lovely words with us, patriciajj. 

Copyright © morningglory

patriciajj's picture

Your comment warmed my heart.

Your comment warmed my heart. Many thanks.