This is… Gorgeously resonant.
Recovery is like a wind that shakes off the leaves
and then they flee.
I can hear the wind in my limbs
I can dream of wind through fevered sleep
and wake to a bare yard.
I am entering the middle period
a middle stage
and you and everyone else
are blowing away from me.
I reach for you
in your younger form
with longer hair
and suppler frame
and there you are
all of you.
When the rains come
and I stand out here, sweating, trembling
waiting to know when the rain I have waited for
I feel each of you eating from my hand
like baby birds
and then you fly out the window
and I wake to my own rain.
You and every colour that must accompany you
-how they change each time I see you
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