Luminous Storms

Wendy Morton

I have lived in the house on the Strait for thirty years,
watched the west wind drive in winter.
I have eaten the luminous storms, the terrible rain.
That wind has driven the husbands I have forgotten
from the house; they couldn't hear its language.

How could they know what I hear:
the scavenging gulls,
their mad circling;
and the wren's small song
hidden in November woods.

I am already in flight
at the end of love —
and at its beginning.