I Cry, Sometimes

When at night,

the wind is calm,

a stillness in the air,

I’m waiting,

and nothing seems to know,

I wait a little longer,

check again,

and the air is still.

I sometimes want

those winds to return,

the kind that shook our soul,

but made us feel alive,

we could know how to smile,

look in each other’s eyes,

only then

could we ever really

hold each other’s hand again.

Howling Winds

I was told

oh so bold

her words would move me

I had somewhere to be,

yet alone

this unknown

semblance of finality

the winds so symbolically,

played outside my windows

shaking the pains in its throes

my bird feeder ready to sail if the nail gives

tossed back and forth only time forgives.

I listened in awe

each whistle like a saw

cutting through the afternoon air

without hesitation, a constant tear.

I listened to the winds, the changing winds

I listened to the winds, her changing winds.

© aquietwalk 4/2022