After you left, a wind from the other side
Hurdled the Pali ridge
And bore down on the valley for three days.
eyes in the mountain
the leaf-swept heavy air
plundering the shrill eucalyptus
wraiths that wailed and disappeared in flakes of rain
failing under the old heroical power
that would not let go
That wind is dead.
It never spoke of anything to do with you and me,
I know that.
But on the third night I went outside
And listened for a while. Then I
Screamed your name raw
Into the heaving air.
Nobody heard me.