The wind will blow and trees will bend and bow
the blades of grass will dance their gentle sway
the pond ripples like gentle rings of silk
and ears of corn will move and bob all day.
A gentle breeze is felt to cool the brow
when summer sun is blazing in its high
a gale will tell you button up your coat
and blow the clouds away across the sky.
An icy chill will cut across the face
and make the ends of fingers throb and hurt
it brings the frost that nips the buds so harsh
and all the shoots will stay down in the dirt.
A hurricane up-roots the mighty trees
it takes off chimney pots and blows down stacks
it blows down walls and takes of roof and tile
and when it dies, we know it will be back.
© D Marsden 2016