The Wind is a Restless Soul Tonight

The wind is a restless soul tonight;

It rattles and shrieks in the tormented trees.

It teases the lamppost and makes her cry;

It chases the tail of the frantic breeze.

The panes and the lintels and frames are rattled;

They answer with sundry creaks and groans.

Shingles have all of their feelings flustered;

They vent their frustration in muffled moans.

Grasses and greenery join in the dance;

Cavorting and sighing, with frenzied wave,

They add to the motioned contortion; they prance,

And, all up in arms, with countenance grave

They heave, and they protest to bowing so low;

Creatures on edge, with tails fluffed on end

Slink around corners and sulk in moon’s glow,

Alarmed at the way in which all the world bends.

The wind is a restless soul tonight.

It enters my bedroom, infecting my rest;

My soul wanders with it, and, sensing its flight,

Allows it to rustle within my chest.