Forth came the wind,
forced through the light,
anguishing those souls,
afraid of the night.

The night approaches
on tippy toe feet,
as the Sun gives up
making its retreat.

Day was done,
A setting Sun.
Darkness here,
And yet.
Somethings missing.
Where is
The Moon?
Is it,
At play,
Hidden by Clouds?

The wind in the Willows
plays new melodies,
while branches rub others,
the sound puts me at ease.

Dark the clouds
on a Horizon far,
choking the light
from a dying star.

Across the window,
beyond the pane,
started a dance,
Wind and rain.

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Echo's surround
this place I know,
across the canyon
and it's rock wall.
Say your name,
loud and well.
Speak, do not yell.

A perceptible sound
is heard, only the rain
splattering on the
pavement with an
occasional spray
on the windowpane.
It must be April.

They ran in a panic,
running to flee,
the fires, now burning
across forest and plain.
Small animals, deer, rabbits,
scurried away from flame,
caused by a careless
camper, who was to blame.