(Today’s been another sticks-and-stones day)
I fold my bones against the lashings of the wind
I wonder if after the storm I’ll find you in the quiet,
And in the hollows of your throat,
In the recesses of your heart,
I will find an alcove in which to hang my own
And take refuge against the rain.I was confronted by a most ferocious rainstorm today when going home from a consultation session and felt all alone and vulnerable, particularly when my brand new umbrella decided to fold itself against me with a rather defeatist squeak. What else to do? I wrote a poem.