Ssssh.

Listen.

Can you (can you) hear it?

(say goodbye to a glitter girl)

The wind is pushing at the counterpane, insistent. The middle of November, after fall has died in the usual silent red-gold explosion and the rain's closed in, screaming across the atlantic.

The wind. Can you hear it?

Tiny insects walk along the window. The last of them, before they go dormant or dead for the winter. I will find their bodies on the sill in the morning,and brush them off into the wastebasket.

There is a wild and sad drama to this time of year, when the storms wash across us and bring us all the water from the sea. Everything is muddy, all the bare branches washed clean of a summer's accumulation of dust and bird leavings. It is time for tea, and soup, and grilled-cheese sandwiches.

I'm currently a little ill and going through a not-unrelated bout of rollercoaster emotions. My emotions rise in my with the wind and like the wind, at midnight I am perfectly still with longing.

The thought echoes in my mind

I want

and lingers, a taste in the back of my throat. I am not used to I want, it surprises and at the same time sickens me. I am used to being content with whatever I am given. I am not used to needing anything more.

And of course i am afraid; the advent of I want signals the always-feared advent of the possibility that i might be given what I want just because I want it, the kind of false giving that enrages me to no end. I want is a poor master and an even poorer servant. Small wonder i've tried to banish it from my mind and voice.

It is an endless thing, this i want. Once it is let in, it never can be banished.

I may be abandoning labels for a little while and just enjoying myself. There are needs that I haven't sated for a long time, itches begging to be scratched, paths that ache for the touch of my feet.

I'll probably be back.

Eventually.

For your listening pleasure tonight:

novena for two voices (you can also read along).

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