The Windstorm

It's an evil-tempered, raging
ravaging wind that blasts
the landscape with its
chaotic anger
howling down chimneys
flinging sleet against
frozen windowpanes
etched in patterns of ice
and races down highways
thrusting, toppling vehicles
while in the forest
the canopy of tree masts
moan, groan and thrum
in a prolonged agony
of bending to the will
of a beast that cannot be
appeased, ripping branches
and limbs apart, tossing
them below and fortune
be with any who happen
in their path. Above, gulls
are lofted and hurled
ravens shudder and
hold fast to their eyries
weathering the gales.