and— my god!
days like this,
i wanna be the wind,
that howl,
that whistle through the trees,
that storm comin’.
girl, days like this one:
i wanna be the way the roofs rattle.
all that cold air in my face.
all young tornado.
a gale, a gust gone wild,
a current, an easy flight.
a quiet kind o’ siege,
see.
watch this, darlin’.
the storm.
it’s comin’.
watch.
when the wind whistles, is it a song or a howl?