Wind Poem by Nan Williamson

wind

shrieks cold pale light
strikes hawthorn trees
fierce beaks snatch fruit
red bristles poke from branches

wind rattles fragile panes
howls buffets jays
drunk on spoiled berries
circling crazily dazed

wind moans maple leaves crowd down
still-green scarred with black pox
thick raindrops fall
wash away dark scent of rot

useless to fear what's ahead
gusts come and go
bring on sedum's late blooms
then whirl away November's frail remains