Storm ©

Barometers do not
tell lies,
here comes that
wild washing
machine!
Hissing heavens,
hidden starlings -
all sought
shelter
behind dry
stones;
our chimney
pots,
bare,
deserted,
they'll face
alone
the wind's
anger.

Unruly seas,
rattling
tiles,
my dreams
wander
between the felt
and the ceiling;
I beg my eyes
to fall asleep -
our weatherman
to tame
the wind!