Blustery

Rain swirled under the awnings in blustery
gusts of unseasonably warm November winds

on Broadway where the wheels of the morning rush
hissed through puddles and a diesel-scented wind

announced the arrival of the number-nine bus
splashing a bow-wave over the kerb like a wind

on a pond that sends ripples among bulrushes
gushing over the banks. It hardly feels like winter,

the warmth of the storm like arms embracing us,
passion renewed in a season turning toward winter.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside