the raven

This week’s post is based on lyrics from the song Love Minus Zero / No Limits by Bob Dylan.

“The wind howls like a hammer,

The night blows cold and rainy,

My love she’s like some raven,

At my window with a broken wing.”

….

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

The wind slammed against the side of the house and sucked at the eaves, whistling and pounding in equal measure.  He nudged the blinds enough to see out into the darkness beyond his window.  There was nothing out there but the wind driven leaves sailing in torrents away from the oak tree that stood prominently in his front yard.  Nothing should be out there.  It was too nasty, too wild.

She was, though, out in the weather.  She was on one of her adventures, reveling in the power of nature, walking the dark streets, soaking it all in.  She loved evenings like these.  He didn’t think he’d ever understand why even if, as he hoped, they were together for the rest of their lives.

He released the blinds and turned away from the window.  His thoughts swirled through the beautiful chaos of their two years of dating.  Things had been rocky at first.  She’d been so different from anyone he’d ever known, let alone attempted to date.  He’d nearly called things off very early on but there had been something about her, too, that had made him want to be patient and see what happened next.  Their dates weren’t always exciting, but she was and her stories were, and her passion for life was infectious.  As the dates progressed he’d learned to just ride the storm, as he’d come to think of it. 

The beat of the wind changed and rain began to pummel the roof in torrents.  He flicked aside the blinds again but his view was obscured by the water running down the glass.  Sighing, he turned away once more.

After the first couple dates, he’d learned pretty quickly to let her be.  She wasn’t playing the normal dating games, she wasn’t on her best behavior, she wasn’t trying to be anybody other than who she was.  It was refreshing, even if it was terrifying at times.  He’d never known anyone so wild, so free, so in love with living, so comfortable in their own skin.  At some point, also fairly early on, he’d realized that she would very likely walk away one day and that would be the end.  He was too different from her, with his need for routine, and his overall conformity.

But the months passed, the dates began to last longer and become more elaborate, he went on some of her adventures, and she moved in.  She must have seen something in him she felt was worth sticking around for because she always came back.   

The wind slammed against the side of the house, shaking the walls and rattling the rain splashed windows.  He instinctively pushed aside the blinds, searching the darkness for any sign of her.  He knew it was childish.  He knew she’d be fine out there.  But he couldn’t help it.  He was happy when she was happy, but that didn’t keep him from worrying.

The gust subsided and the sound of the rain dominated again.  He let the blinds fall back into place but didn’t turn away.  He could picture her dancing, literally dancing, through the puddles, waltzing with the wind, the trees bowing and clapping as she swirled by.  She wasn’t a leaf, though.  She wasn’t beholden to the wind.  No, she was like a raven, a dark haired beauty, wild and free, working with the storm to get to where she needed to be.  Sometimes that was an adventure.  Sometimes that was home. 

The door opened, startling him from his thoughts, and she stepped through the entryway, easing the door shut slowly, letting that last bit of the storm swirl around her and into the room.  She was radiant.  She was amazing.  He rose from the couch to take her coat and ask her all about the storm.  The smile in her eyes told him she had some great stories. 

Advertisement