Today it is
moving in from the west,
a deep brown-purple, the colour of sky
before a sand-storm on the desert’s edge.
A dog is barking somewhere
as if to frighten them away.
I realise that I should go around
shutting the doors and windows
and bring in the washing from the line,
but now there is a sudden, eerie coldness,
like the dip
before a great wave
catches and hurls you upwards.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem