Ajar – the window
lets in wind
monotonous the sound
Welcomed by
the latch that breaks
with questions that abound
I look outside
and see the sea
tumultuous of form
The tide will rise
to my surprise
before the heavy storm
I check the glass –
it rattles so –
like an empty bottle whistling
I feel my neck –
it tingles so –
like an insect – it is bristling
A sound diverts
my scattered thoughts
to the noise outside – it’s growing
The tide – it sings
the strangest things
I bask in my unknowing.
sensualism 