'She's back again?'
'She is,' he answered, crossing to the locker
and rummaging for his boots.
'Is she back long then?'

'She is not,' he said, sitting down on the kindling box.
'She showed up last night.'
He forced the stiff cold boots over swollen feet.
'Is she staying long?'

He walked to the door and looked outside
where clouds separated and merged
in a patchy sky.
The cattle yard was trodden mud, all over and back.
'She says not,' he said, and he buttoned up his anorak
and stepped through the doorway.

'She'll be gone soon then?'

He turned on the gravel and looked back
to where I stood, half slumped on the threshold.
I stood there shuddering in the sharp wind
and feeling that wind through my thin bones.
He coughed a minute and he spat
on the wet gravel.
'I don't know,' he replied
and then cleared his throat.

'She's back again then,' I said.
He swung around, facing the wind, and half ran
the long path to the van.