Wind is Entropy

I wrote a haiku:

Wind is entropy
But really, it is static
Change is illusion.

It got published on twihaiku.com, but I don't think that's really a big feat.
Anyway, now I'm reminded why I hate haikus and that's because I don't only have three lines worth of thought on wind or static or change or anything.
I want to talk about how much I adore the wind, in all it's chaos and I don't want to be restricted to seventeen stupid syllables.

I love it when hot sand and gravel blow into my pores, and I walk around like I've risen from the dead.
I love it when gusts of air blow plastic bags into trees and they tangle around sapling limbs like flags of surrender.
I love it how nothing stays the same in wind, how trees swing low, how ponds evaporate, how houses topple over.

In wind, trash goes everywhere, leaves and sticks and stupid worthless things become important.
In wind, those tufts of dead grass I walk by every boring day, they come alive.
In wind, everything struggles to bend back in place, everything becomes a challenge, everything is victory.

I'm reminded how when I was young, I would stand in the middle of our street and raise my arms and welcome the stinging, chaotic dust storms, the first before each monsoon. I'd stand until everything around me was red-brown and smelled like rain and then the storms would come.

Fuck haikus.