Missing the wind

You may think it strange
yet I miss
the buffeting of the wind
and the lashing of the rain

As the night closes
I would often gaze out
to see the streetlights distorted
by water streaming down the pane

To watch the familiar lights
of the overnight ferry
quietly slip out of port
before midnight

The lighthouse winks
as does its satellite buoy
a signal of safety
for those in peril on the sea

I'd be amazed
to see the glass flex
against the force of the wind
as shown by the reflections

But last thing each night
I'd hear the wind buffet the house
and the rain lash the windows
Saves washing them, eh?

I'll be back later
To look out at the familiar sights
A reassurance in itself
In old Stornoway

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