After You

Once there were a sister and brother
Who’d been raised by the side of the road
In the house where they were born then lived

Their entire lives, despite the strong winds
That frequently threatened to blow them
And their little house clean off the cliff

That the road in front of them skirted.
They did see some awful accidents
When speeding trucks plunged through the guardrails

Or tipped off the sharp turns in high winds,
And whenever winds were ominous,
Or boulders tumbled into the road,

The siblings would look at each other
And observe that now the end was near.
They didn’t have to say it. Just nod.

They knew. They both knew. They always knew.
But somehow, more windy years went on
And the little house never blew down,

And after every bad accident,
Traffic drove down the road the next day.
One night, the brother died in his sleep.

The sister carried on, only now
When winds were howling something awful,
She looked out at the cliff and nodded,

Since she’d no one to nod to at home.
One day, around sunset, when that wind
Was moaning more grimly than ever,

She wondered, as usual, if this
Was it, if this time the end was near,
And suddenly she laughed at herself.

There was never going to be an end.
She would die listening to the wind.
And, of course, one windy day, she did.