something is coming
Long ago, when I lived on the island,
weeks at a time with no one,
only the wind and tide moving.
Long enough on my own,
so the empty spaces in solitude were filled with wild
and quiet was not alone.
Then, the stars drew closer,
and in the pause between breaths I heard the whispers in the wind.
I knew when someone was coming.
As though the movement toward the island far away
sent ripples through the woven structure of atmosphere,
like the echos sent ahead on the rails by an approaching train,
vibrations cast forward through time and space.
Even now, another life, another time,
worlds away from simplicity,
I still feel the rise and fall of the tide,
the wind carries far away whispers.
Along the street, cast-away wrappers stir sullenly,
the heat brushes the world with a glaze,
trapping us all in a waiting hush.
In the haze,
I taste dust,
and I know that something is coming.