I have to tell you
Of the breeze on my legs
Of the ruffle of airstreams through my hair
It isn’t a Zephyr, from over the sea
Nor a Mistral, which could have travelled
Across mountain-streams
But it is the air that is with me
With me right now
I read a poem by Forough Farrokhzad
She was asking an invited guest
To bring a window
Also she may have asked
For the Brickfielder
At the end of the garden
Or the Etesian, which jostles with the bushes
As if to say: I am here, let me through
The gardens are in shadow
Also the fence
In front of my neighbours' blossom
Is partly darkened, yet more so it is in full sun
I have to tell you
Of the breeze on my legs
Of the ruffle of airstreams through my hair
It isn’t a Zephyr, from over the sea
Nor a Mistral, which could have travelled
Across mountain-streams
But it is the air that is with me
With me right now
I read a poem by Forough Farrokhzad
She was asking an invited guest
To bring a window
Also she may have asked
For the Brickfielder
At the end of the garden
Or the Etesian, which jostles with the bushes
As if to say: I am here, let me through
The gardens are in shadow
Also the fence
In front of my neighbours' blossom
Is partly darkened, yet more so it is in full sun
I am reading Memories of the Future
At the same time I think on
Of my future, of my past
How many dwellings
How many shelters
How much protection
From the elements
Or from the wandering subconscious
Am I the lucky one
Or is it the water
As it flows over the rocks, tumbles
And splashes into the pond
Not that this is my first shelter with a pond
There have been others
But way less successful
Let’s hope this one changes the mould
No more twisted ankles
No more failed relationships
No more dissatisfaction
With whatever are the outcomes
