Sunday, February 7, 2010

Restless Night

The wind is streaming and swirling through the trees

they swing and toss like wheat before the storm.

The sound of branches rubbing on each other

comes through the night, above the sighing of the wind.

The train horn calls, changes tone, and fades away

with the rumble of wheels upon the rails.

And little dog howls die off in the distance

as the chill of night drops down from the sky.

Nary a twinkle of star nor gleam of moon to be seen

just the slow red pulsing of beacons on towers and tanks.

As leaves rustle, I shiver in the breeze,

then back to warm shelter and light I retreat.

The frogs are all silent, from the birds not a peep,

the squirrels are all tucked safely away in their beds.

The sound, the only sound, is the moan of the wind

as it pushes and searches for a home of its own.

The darkness is seething with life in the night;

to still once more ere the light of dawn.

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