I.
The weather came in showers
and
as
hours pass in tandem
horizons threw on us gale.
I can't imagine a world full of
sunshine
said the lonely soil
and
opened up
to the skies.
The windows licked the drops
before the wind would steal
them;
their
surface lusting
for
salt
the
freezing sensation on ice.
The storm had only started
and
ducks fled the lake
like children should flee war.
The river tried to stand
for a second or a moment;
the river tried to say
it was soon going to go away.
II.
I held your hands in mine
and watched their wrinkled
lines;
your breath was like a cigar’s
smoke
some
winter back
in
the chalet.
Snow brewed from us above
a
moonlit avalanche to strike;
I
hadn’t seen you in a while
so
I kept holding your hands in mine.
St Andrews,
February 2020.
Photograph: post storm
Ciara; Lade Braes, St Andrews, 9 February 2020.
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