I thought maybe "Viento", but it seemed wrong.

I can't say your name has ever
sounded like the wind to me.
But I can say that wind has
made me wonder about closing
my eyes and imagining a different
place; about converging places and
silent places; about cold and brown
and rain in the spring. There is
one street that is where wind
blows, there are no faces, but
temperatures and most of them
are warm or cool. The wind doesn't
lie until you tell it to. It doesn't
cry until I have something to mourn.