Shutters banging, wires whining
window's panes expand & contract
recoiling from each of her gusty screams
like last breaths' growling sounds so stark,
Sirocco the mistress of many an imagination,
is howling just outside in the cover of dark.
Belligerent, drunken by Saharan sand,
thoughts stifled in its haze,
even the sun's face grays.

She can't help but touch everything,
an unwieldy child in a candy shop
handling everything that is yours as hers.
Her shrills build with no exhaust,
blasts of hot air run loose
a horse unhitched, where will it stop?

Enter the crescendo, a switch flipped,
silence's pause, the dialogue was not some surreal innuendo.
Now, exposed by the signal of a single brave Finch,
all's well, over and done,
the flock joins in fever pitched repetition,
too, but without competition.