Stormy Night Poem by Don Dickenson

A whistling wind in the rigging,
driving rain like rods of steel.
White topped waves, that are riding high,
throwing flotsam, on the deck.
Whilst a deep enveloping darkness,
mocks the sharpest human sight,
for not one star is shining,
to brighten up this night.
A keen northeaster’s blowing,
on sea and on the shore,
where windows rattle loudly,
as drain pipes overflow.
Trembling bending wind blown trees,
lose their finest limbs,
falling, with a crack and squeal,
on a thoroughfare below.
Wellies squelch and slither,
along a muddy lane,
whilst countless tiny rivulets,
cascade to a hard pressed drain.
Slates and tiles, grimly fight,
to keep their tenuous hold.
Loosened in the battle,
they clatter from a roof top,
to shatter on the floor.
Left as a sign of impotence,
to conquer natures might,
on roaring sea, or country lane,
and windswept city centres.
But, we are safe and warm, in bed,
to sleep the storm away.
Dreaming, that tomorrow,
will bring a bright, new, day.