WINTER GALE ( edited)

Only the bravest, strongest birds
dare go aloft on such a day
a breeze which whispered now shouts its words
making trees bow deep and sway

The wind which once sighed through tall pines
now strips last leaves from old oak trees
breaking large limbs, snapping small vines
while bending cypress to their knees

It blows the woods' duff into drifts
while lifting harvest's chaff to skies
where all the clouds are rife with rifts
and dust peppers my squinting eyes

Some weak trees now hit the ground
with old torn roots now tipped, exposed
( yes, absent people there's still a sound )
as standing posture turns reposed

Indeed the whole world is in motion
as waters turn to crashing waves
tall grass pastures look like the ocean
and bats stay in their haunts and caves

While in the gale I'm free and wild
despite the fury and the biting cold
I've loved high winds since just a child
even more as I grow old

But now the day has blown away
and puffed a ring around the crescent moon
which bids me now to turn away
someone expects me back home soon