The Wind Poem by T. R. Crissian

The wind blows hard and fierce,
The wind is cold and frightfully bold,
It shrieks and sings,
No matter how high or low,
This hard wind blows,
'Tis always piercing.

Loud and clear,
Invisible,
But not impossible to hear.

It doth sing strong,
Whipping my hair about,
Capturing my heart,
Numbs to ice inside me,
Yet feelings I still have.

I listen to it rush by,
Going fast, slow, sounding bright, mellow,
This is the wind.