Wellington, New Zealand
Prominent modernist writer of short fiction
The Wind Blows
Suddenly – dreadfully – she wakes up. What has happened? Something dreadful has happened. No – nothing has happened. It is only the wind shaking the house, rattling the windows, banging a piece of iron on the roof and making her bed tremble. Leaves flutter past the window, up and away; down in the avenue a whole newspaper wags in the air like a lost kite and falls, spiked on a pine tree. It is cold. Summer is over – it is autumn – everything is ugly…
The wind - the wind! There’s a funny smell of soot blowing down the chimney. Hasn’t anyone written poems to the wind?...
The wind – the wind.