Black Flies - The Weather Station

Humid wood, you felt good

And you shook your tangled hair down

With the sweat in your eyes

And all the black flies

Under lidded skies

You lie down there in the grasses

On the clifftop you remember

Salt stinging in your lashes

Straight line of horizon

And the ocean painful wide

Every time you come back here

You feel nothing, and then you

Cry out all the strangeness

You have carried all year

Every crooked word spoken

Still ringing in your ears

Like the whine of mosquitoes

Oh, who are you alone?

With your cheek against the stone

What do you think you know?

Under lidded skies

Under the rising clouds of black flies

Under tangled branches way up

High glinting in the last light

You left, you got into the car

Sink down into the fabric

And you close the heavy metal door

With your hands upon the plastic

And drive on into the cold

So calm, like it don’t matter

Like slipping into a pond

All the little waves roll and scatter