I sit at my kitchen table and
try to write; try to link together
letters and symbols to create an
explosion of sentences and structures
on this bare sheet of paper.

Music plays around me, forming
tiny blockades in my ears – rhythmic
gestures that calm my aching heart.

I stare out my adjacent window,
where everything seems so calm
amongst the blowing winds
and the shaking tree.

The world beyond my curtain rod
seems so bright and new, while inside
the gloom of the future strangles
my air, taking away my desire bit by bit.

Will the storm come sooner
than planned or am I forever
awaiting its arrival?