One Corner The wind passes at breakneck speed. There could be a storm coming, but for now the wind is unaccompanied by rain, thunder, lightening. It pushes specks of dirt, watches for a corner to grab, make it sing. It has no voice without a corner to bend around or leaves to shake like maracas. It has no voice when it's alone. It tries to whisper, call the corners to it. They don't come. So it races to find them, searches for something to slow down its breakneck pace and release its wail before the neck is broken and the wail lost in stillness. It moves unnoticed by ground or sky. Airplanes past on a solitary quest for one corner on a round world. Trina Stolec Back to the Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks