( / Frackville, Pennsylvania)

The Wailing Wind

I'm amazed at the wind's changing mood,
Its ability to maneuver far and wide,
The quiet motion - the tumultuous ones,
The way it pushes at ones side.

It pounds at the coastline creating massive waves,
Releasing its wrath against the sandy shore.
It approaches the heartland with a fury,
Across the golden wheat fields even more.

Its strange the mood of the wind
As it traverses the prairie so wide,
An eerie sort of unpredictable routes,
Before it reaches the other side.

Sometimes it appears as a gentle breeze
With coolness, it will offer a relief
While just as quickly it might change,
And its mood is difficult to believe.

It responds in anger, cold and mean
Creating many thoughts of fear,
While at other times, it is meek and mild,
And sings and whispers in our ear.

We never see this mysterious force,
Quietly or fiercely as it marches in,
And yet, we always hear the eerie sound
Of the cry of the wailing wind.

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