Our lady asks wind to wait
In the street without gate
Till errand or take leisurely
Stroll in busy town streets.

His arms are spry and high.
He may sweep her up a sky
And her wick may not hold
Up to a vague house’s light.

She goes to adjoining zone .
He must wait without gate.
But the process is too long
Just to ascertain the house.

Houses are vague and alike.
The numbers are confusing.
The wind is getting restless
And inmate may have gone.

(Emily Dickinson’s beautiful little poem “The Spry arms of the wind” )