The Twin

Something is happening out in the wind –
A door blows and the animals stir,
And the wind drops.
The light from my cottage
Spreads into the night
Giving shape to the darkness,
As I stand and I wait.

But something is restless
That I cannot see,
Out there in the formless gloom.
I look and I listen,
I’m still, and I’m waiting
To know what the wind stirred,
Making the animals move.

Then to my face comes
The breeze once more blowing
And fragments of blackness
Are moved in the black.

A flutter of clothing,
Unkempt hair blown sideways,
A ragged swept figure,
Alone in the night.

He moves not, but watches
As silent as I am,
A figure of blackness
Immersed in the gloom.

And twisted and frightened
By unknown conditions,
A twin, I stand watching
The man in the light.

Copyright ©2001 Tony Crisp