Saturday Night Storm Poem by Paul Reed

Echoey black darkness with winds rushing through
Litter picked up and dropped, then picked up anew
Whooshing gales kiss then press hard against the glass
As rattling gates and creaking stiles let the air pass

Rolling cans and tinkling bottles lend their sound
To the symphony of bin lids slapping and flapping around
Roof masts bend and doorknockers knock
Invisible hands stretching out the wind sock

Behind our defences we huddle together and pray
That the storm will surrender and soon melt away
Leaving us safe with not a vestige or trace
Of the wind-blown ghosts that swept the earth's face