The winds howl through the valley
galloping across the fields
gusting into town

knocking down garbage cans
rattling grain silos

shoving highway traffic
stealing people’s hats

blasting tractors
slapping around limbs and branches

knocking live powerlines to the cold winter ground

interrogating clattering palm trees
threatening creaking, aged oaks

They’re just outside the door, now
whispering, moaning, vehement,  loud.