A sadness comes when we think back.
The car says, "I will bring you home."
Confusion says, "Is it all clear?"
The driver says, "A storm is coming."
The car was still warming up
When the storm came. Like all storms,
It lacked subtlety and obeyed
Something or someone irresistible.
The people stood looking out at the car.
There wasn't room for everyone.
Someone would be left behind
In the cold house. Human longing
Says, "I know there's a better place."
The car says, "Let's stop talking and go."
Confusion says that we're quite clear about it.
And the storm says, "Here I come."
The Storm by Robert Bly
(Morning Poems, 1997.)
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