The Wind Screams

And the wind screams
Shaking the foundations of the trees
Almost like thunder
But so, so dark
No sign of lightning
I can hear the wolves howling
Within the wind’s call

Inky lines slinking down
As though a smooth animation
Staring in from the window panes
As a small video screen
And, oh, the wind cries
In its anguish, in the murk

There’s no moon, no sun, no stars
Just a memory of times less dark
Times of less sadness and despair
And the wind screams