This really happened. Sort of.

We are, all of us, too small
To see the wind push a cloud
Up Queen Anne Hill.

Uncorrected eyes, cicrumscribed
By human scales, see only mist
Roll up Eighth Street.

But run, or ride, or even drive.
Just move, and move fast enough.

Be something more than you were before.
See wind and water at play.

It’s all right there.

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