Patter

Delphi sings harmony with the wind
as it careens around the corner
of the house and rustles the dogs
like leaves upon a tree.

Meanwhile, the clouds drift
from southwest to northeast, change 
shape, darken, as we hope for rain.

Delphi reads the clouds
far better than words upon a page,
when she loses herself 
upon the wind.

This is my poem for you,
the clouds say, as lightning flashes
and thunder shakes the hillside.

Delphi tries to teach me
to read the brilliant strokes of light
against the dark whorl of sky,
as if it is a fingerprint upon the air.

But the reverberating crash 
flutters my eyelids, and the dogs 
scratch the door, beg to be let in the house.

Delphi takes my hand, extends my fingers,
traces the ridges of air, like letters
on a gravestone.

This is where the story ends, every time.
She does not speak in metaphors or allegories.
My illiterate love lets her hold me 
up against the storm.


Read and listen to more of Kenneth Gurney’s Poetry at http://www.kpgurney.me/Poet/Welcome.html