windows closing like a door

our weather is daringly stormy,

like a thundering stallion drunk with drama

in a wide open field,

unfenced, but with a distant wall,

(no small detail!) on the horizon.

and the winds blow my hair like a crazy dream

of hunting uncaged game.

i try to avoid eye contact with the noise

which wants to silence me,

the lashing rains which try to poison

my sense of balance.

there are many sheep running in a nearby pasture,

and a black bull watching the huddled cows leave

for the evening, singing softly as in prayer.

i can hear windows closing like a door,

and see a beautiful rose bleeding from its' thorn.