The winds, the winds, the winds, the winds!

What do they want?

They’ve taken everything already!

They’ve taken my leaves and stripped the branches bare.

They’ve bent the conifer’s backs like stooped old men,

Yet they rap mercilessly at my door and windows,

Shaken the very ground and my peace with it.

What do they want?

They howl and screech, they moan and stomp, they push and groan!

The winds, the winds, the winds, the winds!

They pry every crevice, pierce, penetrate, prowl, pilfer, up-end, tumble, rattle and rumble.

The winds, the winds, the winds, the winds!

What do they want?

Rearranging, sculpting, framing, claiming!

Like an army of tanks, leaving a swath of destruction in their wake,

Crushing, mercilessly onward, taking, taking, taking, taking!

When will it end?

The constant shaking?

This Force of Forces?

This “Thing” that demands fear, supplication,

Which never grants pardon,

Rules with brutal ferocity,

And leaves with no apology.