Wind poem

[The first line is from Terce by Malachi Black for Everyday Poems.]

But then I think I see the wind:
it’s a blanket, faded like
water colors.
I close my eyes and paint
it with my mind,
brush strokes in my hair,
the dance of fairies.
I am planted in its movement,
infused with its breath,
at once canvas, artist, and
muse.
Inseparable.
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