All night, the wind blew past my door,
As it had done all day.
I asked it what it did that for,
And yet it wouldn’t say.

It simply kept on keeping on
Another day and night.
Then, in the morning, it was gone
To leave me to my plight.

And I began to think about
The silence which ensued,
And, getting dressed, I ventured out
To lift my solemn mood

But missed the trees as they had been
Before the wind had stripped the clean.

Photo by Jan Huber on Unsplash

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