The night wind sweeps, through the high pines
tugging at the shaking roof
Swirling
Moaning round corners
Caught in its grasp
Speeding clouds race for the horizon
Trailing stars
Then comes the rattling rain
The land, fresh
Pungent with life
The invisible wind
Forever changing
playing…
god dances, I know
I have seen him
Sitting silent in the night
Watching with the frogs.
C. Mallard
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