The hurricane is stripping the woods.
I lull the tender-eyed lightning to sleep.
Let the great wind where I tremble
Marry the earth where I grow.
Its breath sharpens my vigil.
How turbid it is, the hollow
Of the sullied streambed’s lure!
A key will be my dwelling,
The feint of a fire the heart confirms;
And the air whose talon held it.
[NK]