Nothing moves, not yet.
The gusting wind we’ve all been
warned of has not shown its face.
The news and the sky, the spaces
between stillness that only just whisper,
all tell us that it is headed this way.
I keep one ear to the window while I work,
waiting to see if it is my breath or my veins that will
catch the scent first.
Blow down the walls, stir up the spirits, lift up our minds.
I am ready to go higher.
Listening now, to the tops of the trees and the winding of the roads
as they echo the call that she is coming now.
I am on the edge of my seat...
© Elizabeth McLaughlin