And now, this wind.
It shudders
Against the house
And whistles
At the windows,
Demanding
To be let in.
Insistent, this wind,
And totally
Unlike rain.
Rain is passive;
It inhabits
A geography
Of dark silences
And empty distances.
And I suppose
I’m disappointed;
I wanted to share
This week’s slow fall of rain
With you,
The misty territories
Where I escape,
But you’ve marked
Your borders
And hide
Behind a veil
Of reticence.
So let the wind
Rinse you of my memory
And time erase my face…
I wanted to share
This week’s slow fall of rain
With you,
The misty territories
Where I escape.