[First read down each column, then row-by-row across columns.]
The Wind
The wind blew fierce last night.
Tree branches banged on the roof.
Rain sprayed heavy against the windows.
I had merely built my house there.
This afternoon,
the wind averts its eyes,
waiting for shadows to lengthen
Translated from the English
A Dream
I dreamed of you.
You rapped with knuckles and fists on the door.
You frothed spittle in torrents on the glass.
I had only sought sanctuary.
This evening,
you flicker the candle,
waiting for darkness to flood
Click here to read John K. Kruschke on the origin of the poem.
Image by Joshua Lucchese on unsplash.com, licensed under CC 2.0.
John K. Kruschke has poems published in a variety of journals, including Cold Mountain Review, Westchester Review, Breakwater Review, Blue Unicorn, Stickman Review, Cool Beans Lit, Spare Parts Literary Magazine, The Argyle Literary Magazine, among others. He has also published numerous articles in scientific journals on topics ranging across moral psychology, learning theory, and Bayesian statistics. He is Provost Professor Emeritus at Indiana University in Bloomington. https://johnkruschke.com/poems.html
Latest posts by John K. Kruschke (see all)
- The Wind || A Dream - October 2, 2026