As the winds begin to rise

He awoke to its calling, loud and proud

On this October morning at the half-door he stood

Listening, as it whistled through the trees

Its arrival announced, from far off lands

Dreamland this was not as his heart thumped

The birds of the air had gone seeking shelter

Its voice growling louder as the morning wore on

Its message, destruction, rather than peace

Tomorrow, birds will again sing, this storm will cease

The rooks today blown about the skies

Once this storm diminishes, will to the heavens rise.

Poetry from The ManShed (c) The author.

02/10/19