Wind Fantasy - edit2, title change

[Lizzie]

Edit1

Wind Flutters



Who has a thing to say about the wind? -- "a thing" feels weak. Maybe I'm just being dense, but this seems to imply that nobody has anything to say about it, and then you proceed to tell us everything that is said about the wind? 
To old-time sailors pressing, shifting force; -- I'd add an article before pressing
it made excuse for lovers who had sinned -- perhaps "provided excuse" instead of made -- the wind can't make excuses unless you would like to provide more personification of the wind throughout the poem.
then called each other feathers blown off-course.
Today our culture sees gas particles -- "our culture" feels unnecessarily vague since each country has different policies on alternative energy
with wind their average speed, direction, scents,
arrests its gusts in windmill manacles
to power cities’ grid-establishments.
But wind’s inconstant, fleeting as desire -
what moves us to prefer its fickle flow
to take the place of coal’s pent saffron fire, LOVE the "saffron" modifier. Well done.
a heady rush displacing steady glow? -- "heady rush" is evocative of a whirlwind romance that will fade. Like this.
We’ll have our breezy flutter but return -- as much as I hate to say it (being female), a word like "ephemeral" might be stronger than "breezy." Maybe not that since it's pretty sexist, but something that reinforces the inconsistent character of the wind. Even something that evokes the notion that wind is an infidelity toward coal could set up the next line, with the return to coal after the romance with wind.
with time to coal, and constancy’s long burn.


original version;


Wind Passes


Who has a thing to say about the wind?
To old-time sailors driving, shifting force;
it made excuse for lovers who had sinned,
then called each other feathers blown off-course.
Today we see mere random particles
with wind their average speed, direction, scent,
arrest its gusts in windmill manacles
to power each home’s snug establishment.
But wind’s inconstant, fleeting as desire -
what leads us to prefer its fickle flow
to take the place of coal’s pent saffron fire,
a racing rush displacing steady glow?
We’ll have our breezy flutter but return
to hard-mined coal and constancy’s long burn.

---

(If only this were just an engineering matter!   )

Hope some of this helps,

lizziep