Broken Window

The wind cuts the
stillness
of the dark night
Bringing cold
Robbing the earth
of its warmth.
The sun no longer
beats back the
cold
Winter has come
Driven by the wind.
It beats now
against my window
Threatening to push it open.
The window is broken
only resting in the frame
a board keeping it,
supporting it,
against the onslaught
the wind has brought.
The wind has a mind,
a purpose.
At times it is calm,
a cool breeze,
scenting your nose
with the salt of the ocean,
sea spray to cool you
from the burning sun
But it has changed
from what I have
known it to be.
It beats now
at my broken window,
fighting to get in,
to blast through my
room, bringing the winter
to laugh at the sun
who's power has waned
and to torment me,
as I have no other
defense than my broken window
and I do not know how
to tame the wind.

No.

It knows all this.
The wind howls,
beating at my broken window.

But I don't know anymore
if I should let it in.

© 1992, Robinson Publications, all rights reserved