The Wind - tapped like a tired man"
By: Emily Dickinson

The wind - tapped like a tired man
And like a host - "Come In"
I boldly answered - Entered then
My residence within

A rapid - footless guest
to offer whom a chair
as impossible as hand
a sofa to the air

No bone had he to bind Him
His speech was like the push
of numerous humming birds at once
from a superior bush

his countenance - a billow -
His fingers - as he passed
let go a mus - as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass

He visited - still flitting
then like a timid man
Again, He tapped - 'twas flurriedly
And I became alone