The Wind

There’s coldness everywhere
Up the forested hills, the wind surge
Throwing up fallen tree leaves
In a self heart gladdening sweep
Down the hill, the hamlet wakes
Pulling cardigans and all manner of rags
To keep Warmth from fleeing
The noises outside, of the busy wind
Sweeping the village square
And all the corners of the hamlet
Pulling both debris, dirt and garbage
About in a fierce dance
An uncontrolled wild desire
The skies are pitch dark
The clouds are unseen
And the Bats were nowhere around
The crickets all quiet, perhaps scared
And strongly holed up in the dark
Deep down the brown soil
The grasses all drifting about
As a choir would do
The nearby Lake, snoring
Sending her soft breezes
Towards the quiet village
A cold night, windy
And calmly a lovers own