By Eva Dias Costa in Noted, Unresolved — 26 Jul 2025

Men Explain the Wind

They say it’s from the northwest,
force 4, rising.

They say you’ll want to reef the main,
watch for veer after dusk.

They say many things.
They gesture at isobars,
tap their phones like altars.
They pronounce cyclogenesis
with the softness of prayer.

They lean over charts
as if they built the ocean.
They mention pressure systems
with the gravity of generals discussing war.

Someone always brings up the Azores.

They use phrases like
“prevailing conditions”
and “squall potential”
as if the weather were a colleague
they’d formally reported once,
but still have to cc
on emails.

One carries a compass
like an heirloom,
but checks the app anyway.

Another folds a laminated map
with tragic precision.
Later, it unfolds itself.
Stubbornly.

They call a breeze
“underperforming” –
as if it had a quarterly review.

When the gusts contradict the forecast,
they sigh –
as if the sky were being difficult
on purpose.

One says the wind changed
because the harbour is poorly designed.
Another blames tides
for being ideological.

They speak often of safety.
Less of yielding.

The weather, they claim,
is political now.

At night, they sleep beside barometers
like prophets beside a mute god.

The boat registers none of it.

In the morning,
they rise early
to recalibrate the instruments.

The air remains disobedient.

They hold a brief meeting
on atmospheric betrayal.

Someone proposes writing a letter
to the port authority.

The youngest of them
points to a rippling flag.

They explain
it’s not the correct kind of wind.

Later, they are overheard saying
they could have sailed –
they simply chose not to.