the night wind does not know

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

the night wind
does not know
does not need to know
the images etched in ruins

the sun will continue
to seek out your skin
the rain will rain at
her own behest and I
will love you again
and again

This is a poem on futures. Most of the future is our own doing, but some are like the rain that falls from the sky and has filtered away all memory of earth. It hits us and heals us without knowing how long we waited, how wounded we have been, how much it means to us to feel it on our skin. Like the rain after a long drought, the sun after a harsh winter, the night wind after a hard day, is the stranger intent on loving you in spite of it all.