Broken Chimes

Broken Chimes

A jeering breeze, flying in from the west
has taken down my wind chimes
one by one. Each string
twisted, turned, snapped like a wishbone.
The pieces flying to the ground.
Falling
flat like dead birds.

Last week the breeze took two.
Shooting them
down with shrill cries. Today
it took one. And is already
eyeing another. The last one standing
is made of brass.
Linked together like festive lights.

They say a chain is as strong
as its weakest link.
But why me? What does he want?
I have done nothing
to get in the way. I have in fact
bent over backwards to give.
And yet I am betrayed.