THE HOWLING WIND

My sleepy eyes witnessed so much last midnight
From the sound of the howling wind
Slapping against my window
To the hissing sound of lost voices it carried.

One can almost hear their
Angry whispers lost in the howls
Of the wind
As each forceful dance
Came with the tiny bumps the staggering cold gives.

Donning my cardigan on like a thief's mask
My aching bones raised me to sit
As my eyes glared confusedly
At the shy moon, wrapped in a fuzz of dark clouds.

The whistling wind glided down the trees
Seizing their necks like a romantic
Leaning in for a kiss
Then in one snappy move
Breaks their necks like straw
Oh! This wind is a romantic demon.

Then came the pit pattering of the rain
Like hurried feet on the roof
Accompanied with the cacophony of lost voices;
A perfect lullaby you'd say.

But my weary eyes still darted left and right
Wondering what would come next.
With the same view boring my eyes
I gave up on curiosity to nestle in sleep's arms.

Now I'm awake to see the light
Of which was absent the whole night
The dancing wind left no trace of its folly
Except broken twigs and trembles of many.

©Zoe