Verily Doth It Blow

The wind is not entirely mistaken
in attributing to itself the mastery
of a skilled surgeon, precisely
applying a steel-cold scalpel to
delicate regions of the human
anatomy; for it, too, is imbued
with a similar proficiency and storied
strategy, bringing discomfort and
distress to bear on a helpless subject.

The wind must take great pride
in its capacity to turn modest sound
into overwhelming, ear-splitting,
fearsomely threatening volumes
of impending alarm; skilled at
initiating mere whispers of breezes
then manipulating them into the
shrieks of animals wild with hunting
fervour, culminating in the atmospheric
roar of a train thundering along the
tracks of the forest interior.

The wind makes bedfellows of
others of nature's environmental
caprices, joining with ice, sleet and snow
in far northern climes; hurricanes and
rain-dense tropical storms in Earth's
southern hemispheres. It is an ill
wind that blows no good and a veritably
mischievous one that walks, leashed,
alongside an absent-minded Mother.