Wind

Wind blowing loudly against the window of a cold bright morning

Straight from the sea, over white sand and through the laundry line

Sheets billowing, secured by pins placed by scoured red hands

Wind crashing through wild treetops on a dark February night

Hideous moanings and cracking wood

Falling trees and covers pulled over the head to silence the sounds

Wind pushing and rolling over a flock of pecking birds in a field of stubble

Rising and landing, rising and landing

they find their food where the wind takes them

Wind herding clouds of sheep against the blue

Scuttling leaves and squirrels hunched in the crook of a branch

A tight ball of fur and tail waiting and dozing while the blow passes by

Wind breaking, tearing down the tall and mighty, 

Cleaning and disturbing stale, settled things, 

Unstoppable, having its way wherever it goes

Sinking dreams and treasures 

Clearing away the sands of time, exposing, revealing

Ancient ways and means forgotten, old, becoming new.