westerly landscape

Westerly Landscape

The wind blows here, over the flat landscape,
storm come in from the sea, tastes salt on lips
when bluster stills for a few days in the summer
voices carry long and people look up surprised
by their own clarity, as they are not used to
whisper their words here where wind screams
like women betrayed to a life of drudgery; only
the women stops hollering when their backs are
bent, but the wind never ceases its blaring
Winter here is full of hailstones and christianity,
traveling preachers rule this harsh landscape till
it softens in May when the fiddlers come around
and there is dance and moonshine made in barns.
The men of god stay away then, but they have
collected enough money to live in comfort, till
it is time, when autumnal wind freezes the loins,
preach from one cold hall to the next and in
the name of god keep sinners subdued till spring
comes around again and crude sex is made and
euphemistically called love