Tumult Poem by John Knowles

On Cornish hills
As the wind blows
Creek-cracking
Through swaying branches;
Leaves float-fall shimmer
To the ground.

Birds; frantic in yellow-blue flight
Flit between trees;
Seeking shelter
From the bristling wind.

Out walking,
People encased
In warm, heavy coats;
Hats, scarves, gloves;

Turning heads to converse -
Struggling to speak;
Gasping sentences
Swallowed by invisible swirls
as they waiver –
Slowly, fast out of control.


Pressure undulates;
Rising and falling
Over time’s invisible face.
While wind exhales bitterness -
Leaving its temporary scar
On the face of home.