30 April – Wild West wind

Goldfinches are thrown in from stage right
like rogue bowling shots
and Fuschia’s stripped bones rattle
like skeletons in a tight spot.
All the trees are wildly protesting,
waving at the wind to stop
and counting their lucky stars
they have few leaves right now to drop.
The chaos invades the house now,
tuning the flue into a flute,
piping out eerie low moanings
and mischievously dislodging soot.
It’s a Wild West out there now,
good luck to every life
that doesn’t have the advantage
of squirrelling away inside.
Thank God, I am cosily sheltering
as the rage romps on outside;
when the wind is in this kind of mood,
it’s definitely best to hide.

30 April - Wild West wind