An Angry Wind

I overheard a conversation,
As I lay in the dark, upon my bed.
…Seems to the Night the Wind was arguing,
I’m not sure exactly what was said.

The Wind, he seemed so angry;
He berated all the trees,
I could hear his ire unleashing
As he trembled their green and lacey leaves.

The Night, he was so calm;
He never said a word,
He appeared to listen with concern
As Winds temper carried on.

The Wind continued in his ranting,
As he clanged my chimes outside,
The noise was overwhelming,
Almost more… than I could abide.

The Night, he held his temper,
Never did he show a sign,
Inside the dark, he swirled with Wind,
His demeanor always kind.

Finally spent and tired,
From venting all his pent up passion,
Winds violence became a pleasant hum;
Night soothed all, with his encompassing compassion

Tonya Greenlee