A SUMMER GALE

When the wind whines and whistles and screams in pain,
Making trees bend and the clouds burst with stinging rain,
Nature lets her anger rip like a tormented, uncontrolled rage,
It seems to numb all the senses, save fear, of those of every age.

Gale force fury tears off branches and pulls roots of each tree,
They almost seem wanting to at last be completely set free
From the earth that binds and feeds them, yet others want to fight
As the never ending lashing lasts throughout the dark fearful night.

Only a few are able to sleep, neither man or beast can find rest,
The wind changes directions, blows north, east and then west.
Where is the gentle summer breeze that from the south doth blow?
All hope that homes will stand firm, for how long we do not know.

Surely any storm this strong cannot last too much longer?
Yet, listen, outside the wind seems to be blowing even stronger.
God help those who must from safety and shelter have to roam,
Keep them free from harm, and please guide them back home.

Where is the gentle side of nature? Will she show her face?
Will there be any flowers left this earth at all to grace
Us with their bright colours and delicate fragrance sweet?
Or, will we in the morning complete destruction meet?

No! Look! Some trees did stand strong and tall, yet hurting,
See! Bedraggled flowers reach upward the warm sun seeking,
Everywhere looks clean and fresh, hope has returned again,
Summer has returned to continue her sweet and gentle reign.

M Ann Margetson © May 10, 2001

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