What is so compelling about loveWhy am I lonely without, full with, Runneth and spilleth and cometh nonsense on my brain? Why must you come with me when I move away. Why must I move on the move, moving still?
You ask 'what it is that drives me, consumes me? What is this that threatens my stability?'
And I tell you, my cup-filler, my jug bearer, That I crave the cold wind, the hard front pushing through. It's calling me, this year. It's clawing for me, and I must ask. Will I heed its call?