Saturday, September 01, 2012

I know no one ever reads these poetry posts, but...


Leeward

Thus far we've been protected
from the storm,
huddled inside,
the only sounds
your even breathing and
the steady rush of rain
against the windowpane; I wish
that we could linger
in this valley, ever leeward, never facing
lashing water, or time's flow
which also
wears down and divides.
But there it is: ordained,
like a cloud on the horizon,
coming from a new direction
as the wind picks up and stalls;
I count the freckles on your back
and catalogue your dreaming
and wait, silent, for the whirlwind
to come ripping through these walls.