They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart,
they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees. What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?
~William Ernest Henley from “The Rain and the Wind”
Yesterday a heavy rain
darkened a sodden gray dawn
when unbidden, a sudden gust
ripped loose remaining leaves
and sent them spinning,
in yellow clouds.
The battering of rain and wind
left no doubt
summer is done for good —
the past is past.
I hunker through the turbulence,
tattered and tumbling,
and await a clear night for
heaven to empty itself into
a fragile crystalline dawn.