From Thin Air (Poetry)

The wind has turned raw and savage now
it seeks out uncovered bones to gnaw
no longer soothing, cooling summer’s heat
it has grown teeth and bites at will
                        the soft exposed goose-pimpled meat

It whistles loutish, tuneless — kicks at leaves
bangs doors as if to spite a sombre day
and tears about in roughneck bursts of play
worries roof tiles and bullies lonely trees

Just when its nature changed the day’s unsure
and such sudden winter wildness has no cure
the season’s mood is random — feral-fierce
as it snaps and snarls in the chill of night
                        then wheedles thin as if to pierce

the sleep of those who toss and turn
and draw their bedclothes round
to block the sound of Winter’s roar
that rattles gates, disturbs those more
                        sensitive to noise

as gale force gathers in the dark
whips along the unseen path
howling wolfish — running through strange dreams
all shapes and shadows — nothing’s what it seems
                        these creatures conjured from thin air’s unease ...