The Night Wind
Like a soft drum roll or a bass recorder
The rising moan of a night time wind
Brings an uneasy sense of grim disorder
As a siren once would have soughed and whined..
A wailing, a moaning, a mournful lenten prose
Is the tone of the wind in its threnody,
A pulsating tune is the way it goes,
Or a dark-toned minor key melody.
The wind didn't sigh so in past years
An uncanny shift in the habits of weather
Gives bothersome cause to fret and to fear
That things are going awry as never before.
It's starting to die down at last,
But now I'm awake with my mind recalling
The crass mistakes I've made in the past,
Invoking in me thoughts appalling,
But then I'm lapsing into dreams
That soothe me towards the longed for morning,
With awakening hope of the first faint beams
Of the sun on a calm new day now dawning.