Westerly Landscape
The wind blows here, over the flat landscape, storm come in from the sea, tastes salt on lips when bluster stills for a few days in the
summer voices carry long and people look up surprised by their own clarity, as they are not used to whisper their words here where wind screams like women betrayed to a life of drudgery; only the women stops hollering when their backs are bent, but the wind never ceases its blaring Winter here is full of hailstones and christianity, traveling preachers rule this harsh landscape till it softens in May when the fiddlers come around and there is dance and moonshine made in barns. The men of god stay away then, but they have collected enough money to live in comfort, till it is time, when autumnal wind freezes the loins, preach from one cold hall to the next and in the name of god keep sinners subdued till spring comes around again and crude sex is made andeuphemistically called love
