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In Typhoon Season

24 November 2009

First work I’ve put online in ages.  Enjoy, and comment as you will–I’ll mod them, however.

In Typhoon Season

the storms do not so much bear down
as slink their way along.  The element of surprise
has been surrendered.  Frightening,
withering, howling—yes, these things.
And yet.  You would not suspect
the burden of it, approaching this supple land.
It is before them, a feast.  And we, in turn,
will nourish.

This much, at least, we know:
that it is the way of things.  It is in balance.
It can be little else, you understand.  There is no law
but that each must feed, must continue.  And it is only
in the emerging shape of things that we are bound together.
So we scurry—steadily, no undue haste—homeward, the rain
nipping at our heels, playfully.

And this, too (though this we do not say):
It is the tightness in our chests in Autumn,
the browning leaves and all, that compels us to wait.
And we will linger here, at the window.
The edge of a storm beckons, and we acquiesce,
hoping for mercy in its furious stead.
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One Comment leave one →
  1. Laura permalink
    24 November 2009 11:03 pm

    Ooh. I love the image of the rain nipping playfully at your heels, the tightness of the chests, the slinking storm. Very cool, Hal.

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