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.