29 April 2012
This wind is wild,
Whipping the scrawny
Fingers of the trees
Into a lashing frenzy,
Pulling leaves,
Like teeth from blackened gums,
Scattering their dying forms,
A sprinkling of confetti,
On the patched green-brown lawn.
This wind is wild,
Tearing at the doors,
Windows,
Trying to break in,
Circling the house,
A predator,
Like a cat hunting a mouse,
Would rip the bricks
The roof,
Away, if it could.
This wind is wild,
Hungry,
Desperate to devour,
House, car, church,
Clock tower,
Like an unbroken beast,
It swaggers and sneaks,
Here,
There,
It will find a crack,
To whistle into,
Somewhere.
This wind is wild.
This Wind Is Wild • Opuss № I