An anemometer sprouted from the skull of the Anemometriste. Its fleshy stem was a second neck growing from the top of her skull. Four hemispheric cartilage cups extended from it—a double set of ears whirring over her head.
She could tell the source of each wind filling her by the sound the tree made when her cups caught it: The dry rustle of the oak’s leaves, the susurration of the willow’s long silky fronds, the pine tree’s rough crackle.
The Anemometriste strode through the forest, wind-prospecting, searching for strong gusts to fill her with exhilaration, like a surfer looking for the perfect wave.
She knew the wind scale by heart.
Lorraine Schein is a NY poet and writer. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, VICE Terraform, Syntax and Salt, and Star*Line and in the anthologies Multiverse, Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath, and Aphrodite Terra.