Sonnet XV: Breeze on a Hot Day

Your cyclone self knocks me down every time
You tear through, sweep me up in wayward gust
Then leave no trace, gone with a windchime’s chime
I’m left alone, my lungs are raw with dust
I find my little world in sad disarray
The trees are leaning toward you, branches tense
I’m glad you took the time to blow this way
I wish you’d stay to help me mend the fence
But staying still is not what breezes do
I might as well hold water in a sieve 
I know your nature, know you through and through
I let you roil past, unasked I forgive 
Still, even though it rarely takes place  
On hot days I wait to feel you cool my face