WIND

WIND

The wind begins to blow so hard
A lawn chair flies across the yard,
This is wind.

Nature is acting up once more,
People will suffer by the score,
Tornado.

This is a destructive black thing,
Much sorrow and loss it can bring,
Twisting wind.

This thing has a rage all it’s own,
Sweeping all in it’s mighty cone,
Wind power.

There was once here a house that stood
Now there is but a pile of wood,
Lost to wind.

10/25/2019


Monty

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~ The Poet's Place Cafe~  (E) A place for discussion on poetry, reviews, contests, etc. #1937709 by Dave has company