Is a wind soughing in the windowscreens
Tonight and i would like to follow it
Backwards, climbing against its current, slipping as a salmon upstream
To find the place, miles from here,
From which it set out. There, I would like to lie down
Under wheeling stars for a long while and dig
Fingers strong into loamy earth when
My own troubled susurrations stir and come
To mind and grow heavy and yanking
Until they leave me again, like a wind,
On their long journey to sough in my windowscreens tonight.
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