STATION FOUR

IV
The wind has come alive during the night
at dawn it is shouting in lively gusts blowing an oblique tune
like a whistling kettle
lifted from the flame
a chair rattles on the deck
the blue hammock snaps taught
then falls languidly
like an autumn leaf
waves break in uneven time
like a drummer hidden below the dissolving dune
a tumbling swallow 
caught in a sudden gust
wings flailing
flies within inches of my face
fusing sight and touch so that in that sudden turn
when she exposes her soft underbelly 
as white as an egg
my fingers tingle
as if
I have touched her
my face flushes 
as if
she has brushed against my cheek
and i imagine her flittering wings
go still 
and embrace me
so that I hear her heart thrumming beneath the down