The wandering gusts of winter wind
Repeat and follow and reply
And flow over the tops of the forest
Of this dark night's bare branches,
Sounding like the sudden muffled roar
Of an express pouring through a station.
And you hear within a silent respite
Another imminent resonance,
Way far off,
That will again arrive and quickly depart,
And it too approaches, then passes over,
Awakening a windchime from slumber,
Then heads on away into the shadows;
But, yet, centering itself in your imagination,
You lie listening, with eyes shuttered,
And watch the tree tops sway and dance
And stretch and sweep the darkness,
With sound your only sense.
Coming from somewhere,
Pausing not a whit;
Peripatetic and unsettled;
Roving onward to anywhere;
Unbridled through the sleeping towns;
Till it's force unwinds,
And it loses its self elsewhere;
That I can see from here.
Topic(s) of this poem: night, wind, winter
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.