The Lonely Wind Poem by Jeremy Nel

Dull greyness of the clouds
Flatly painted upon the skies.
Lonely wind howling, curving round
The corners, scaring the magpies.
Sadly dripping, the branches of the birch
Yellow leaves hanging down, spilling
Onto the pavement, scattered with a smirch
By the lonely wind, sweeping
The leaves with a rustle, them to fling
Upon the dust and dirt, weeping.
There to gather into ever growing
Piles, investigated for worms by every bird
For worms and dinner seeking.

The wind plays down the street
Dancing past the birches
In its wake, as it twirls its feet,
Causes them to sway, branches
Waving, as it dances in ever widening
Swirls, up and down the road, dancing
And bearing down as it bends the hapless birch
And drains each dripping trail
Of every covering and leave. Each lurch
Stripping leaves. Leaving trails now naked, frail
Swaying to the mournful tune of the gale
As the lonely wind, howling, curves to sail
Round the corners, bearing dying leaves before it.

Now there’s none left to play or meet
With the lonely wind, as it howls it’s mournful
Tune, round corners, up and down the street
Whistling loudly as it bends the birches. Scornful
Now, of the naked trails and branches. Wildly swaying
With no leaves to weigh them down for the wind
To play with or strip them one by one. Baying
It’s screaming tune upon its hapless victims, to mind
Themself as it races at ever higher speed around
The streets. Leaves dancing in twirls of madness
Small vortex of dust at its centre found
With little yellow leaves surround in sadness
As the wind continues on its road of lonesome madness.

25 October 2008