Tag Archives: Wind

Wind (Poem)


Summer winds rip through the funnel of the Stockton bar and down across the Tooele valley floor where we live.  Or they fly in from the north across the Great Salt Lake.  Either way they tear at the siding and roof shingles and rattle the house, making sleep impossible.  Frightened children wander to the foot of our bed hoping to be welcomed up to sleep with us, happy even to sleep on the floor curled up in their quilts.  This poem describes how nothing frightens me like the wind.


Nothing frightens me like
a million whispers rushing
through a million forest leaves,
coalescing into crescendo and
a horrifying howl,
a gusty, sibilant scream,
a prolonged and violent accusation.
rattles my home,
shakes my bed,
shivers my nerves.
disturbs my well-gelled image,
exposing me: unkempt and scattered.
bellows dirt into my eyes and nose and throat;
I squint and cough and curse.
batters and tears as
I fight for footing.
whips up the storms
that stir the deep and hidden things,
monsters that slink mysteriously about,
revealing themselves in
cursings and covetings, in
lashings and lustings.
Give me
driving Rain,
booming Thunder,
sizzling Lightning,
desiccating Sun:
I embrace them.
But keep away the


Chapter 40: Wind


— I know what makes the wind. Trees!–

The big wind came in the night.  I awoke suddenly to hear the chicken coop’s sheets of corrugated metal roofing flapping and grinding as if under torture, while asphalt shingles beat on the roof over my head with the steady staccato of automatic weapons fire.  It felt like an earthquake, not mere air, shook my bed even as it shook the house.  Violent gusts of wind flung buckets of rain against my bedroom windows.  The house shuddered as each new gale struck, lashing it with rain.  Sleep was impossible. Continue reading