Requiem Wind

by

Doug Larson

Howling wind tears winter leaves
from the failing clutches of sleeping trees
scattered like toys on the breeze
in a child’s angry tantrum
-
Breath of storm makes sparrows flee
as evening fast approaches me
the eye of the sun paints blustery scenes
upon these monotonous doldrums
-
And in the west an orb of gold
a halo wrought from tales of old
that I would wear if I were so bold
into the nearing maelstrom
-
Bright gold dust mists so silhouetted
an empire’s glory now unfettered
taunts our appetites now whetted
a victory will be hard won
-
We draw our swords and face our foe
to rage against the blinding snow
and lightning strikes wherever we go
as we ride into the hailstorm
-
The wind plays a requiem soft and sad
that pines for a beauty that once sang glad
yet the reaper has stolen all we had
and left us for the raven
-
Howling wind tears winter leaves
from the failing clutches of sleeping trees
scattered like toys on the breeze
in a child’s angry tantrum

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