The wind gusts.
But, as I sit in my home,
I remember long
And listen to the eternal sing,
Of the gusting wind.
I can not capture this sense of dissociation
Reflected in campfires
Of shop windows that blaze.
I remember Rome
And see wolves waiting
For the camp’s lights to go out
“If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies
on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity”.
(Middlemarch Chapter XX, http://www.victorianlondon.org/etexts/eliot/middlemarch-0020.shtml).