The Day Before You Arrive.

The rustling on the roof,

yes, it must have been the rustling on the roof!

Slipping with crumpled leaves so benign.

Yet, I say to you unto me,

There are words from beyond this time,
when the meteors and its sights,

bring with them, some news of respite,

Until they do, the rustling may turn,

And turn it will, into incessant rattling,
where shingles and parables form more space,

slowly washing away the kin of chase.

A wait so long, a fate more wrong,
slips inside a catapult of swarm;

hushing the silence, slinking along the wall,
Whispers of a throng..or a qualm?

The meet, the call, the rustle, the fall,
All in an era, or of sun with light?
Why, a day that sleeps with the night!

Just the day-
the day before you arrive.