Photo credit: A Windy Day, oil on canvas, Fitzwilliam Museum
Where do you come from my friend?
After you leave, where do you end?
Sometimes I wish for your return,
Other times I am glad you are gone.
There are times when you are gentle;
Your movements, soft, cold, and calm.
Then…on the next occasion, you’re brisk and strong.
Is there anyone who knows your secrets?
I wonder if they know where you have gone.
None who stand before you can win,
And the clouds? They need you to rain once again.
Oh, I wonder, can I give you my sin?