The Wind

The midnight clouds in anger pour
...A rushing wave of air that soars;
Across the stars and through the trees,
...Roses swaying in the breeze.
Crushing branches at a whim,
...The rushing just begins to dim;
And as I close my ears to hear
...And close my eyes I see,
The singing voices of the wind;
...Their melody...


This was one of the first poems I ever wrote. I feel an immense awe for nature, and here I tried to capture the power of the wind. It's something I would (and will) try for a long time - words don't seem to demonstrate the love of God carried on the evening breeze or His hand manifest in the whirlwind. On a side note, I edited this poem only once while writing it - I changed cattails to roses.