Wind from the sea

Wind from the sea

joins the fray;

lace floats to meet it.

Simple enough

—here, the world he wears:

old, cold, alone—

to thresh loose threads,

reweave them:

lonely, colder, older.

A falter — the window

breaks, wasn't broken,

is open;

shore to sky, the same

glowing tempera

waits, breaks in,

is welcomed.