Words for the Chisel (collection)/Man in the Wind

by Genevieve Taggard

Man in the Wind

In the end I'll open, findNothing knocking but the wind.

When you come you come so lightly,I can never know you rightly;Vines it might be from the eaves;You have fingers like the leaves;You can veer upon my doorBatter there, be off, beforeI can even turn the lock.It is hard to tell your knockFrom the elements I loveFrom the tap, the knuckle ofAutumn gale or winter storm;Always when you come, your formSpeeds upon the spinning airAnd I stand and stare.

So tonight I open, findNothing knocking but the wind.