by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She is the freest
of all women,
the wind.

The sound she plays
through the pinion trees
is a loud, sweeping sound,
like a great, spiny broom
cleaning away from the earth
things unnecessary.

yet she stirs the winter skies
to bring deep canyon snows today–
and then tomorrow
life-giving thunderstorms.

She makes us ask,
what is necessary?
What do we need
on our temporary trek
across the earth? Our suitcase in hand?
What is it we really want?

Only life from the wind.

About the Poet:

Ethel Mortenson Davis has published five books of poetry, I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, White Ermine Across Her Shoulders, The Healer, We Breathe in Sky and Out Sky, and Under the Tail of the Milky Way Galaxy. Trained as an artist at the University of Wisconsin—Madison, her poetry is intensely visual, demonstrating the same life, color, and movement of her pastels.  Her poetry has appeared in anthologies, literary journals, and magazines.  Her artwork has been shown in a number of galleries in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and New Mexico.  She has also had individual works of art appear in different journals and magazines.

Currently a resident of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin on the Door County peninsula, one of the writing and art centers of the Midwest United States, she publishes a blog at with her husband Thomas Davis that features poetry, artwork, photographs, and an occasional essay.