Wind Chime
He bought a small wind chime—
petite metal pipes on a petite
lightweight string.
Secured it to the bottom
of his always-lifted shade
in his front window.
He waited to hear it chime.
Windy days, stormy days—
nothing. He waits for a sound.
Morning breeze, evening hush—
no sweet brushing of light
metal against metal.
One afternoon, in a random gust,
a frail low flow of notes rang
out. He was not home to hear it.