Ray is stubborn. Let it rain; as it does, as Ray has a way he goes; Ray has all there is left, awake, walking, wet, the wind. O woman of the wind. O wind of love and winter, All the world would ask her But let her breath be answer. Closed with gray clouds, watercolors, cold blue air, the haze breaks through to wet fields, and Ray Ray walks on; the rain falls. Ray had a dream. She falls before him: a damp room, a small table, love and her respect; she reads his palm and then she leaves. It looks like rain; clouds collect. Ray returns for emptiness and whispers of her perfume. O woman of pure water O rain and rivers scattered, Whatever way clouds wander There’s wonder if she’s somewhere. But Ray’s awake. Ray breaks through mud and puddles; Ray looks for her; Ray is stubborn.
April 1972