Blow Out Its Cheeks And Rage Poem by M. A Heathcote

Where does the wind reside?
Where on Earth does it go?
Does it circle the causeway rocks?
Does it reside in County Antrim?
Does it enter a cavern and slovenly sleep?
Like a snail within its spiral walls
Did it charter a rainbow to a rainbow's end?
Does it hush its breath and dream its death?
But then blow out its cheeks and rage.
Rage-at-the-moon, rage-at-the-sun
Because it can't find rest, it can't find peace,
Peace in the heart or soul of anything or anyone.